"Well, this is a pretty kettle of fish! Have you told your father?"

"No--he wouldn't understand."

"And I know you didn't tell your mother." This came with the tone of
positive conviction.

"No--and don't you. Mother is daft on the subject. If she had her way,
father would never put a drop of wine on the table. She says it is
ruining the county--but that's mother's way."

St. George stooped over, fondled one of the dogs for a moment--two had
followed Todd out of the room--settled back in his chair again, and
still looking into the fire, said slowly:

"Bad business--bad business, Harry! Kate is as proud as Lucifer and
dislikes nothing on earth so much as being made conspicuous. Tell me
exactly what happened."

"Well, there isn't anything to tell," replied the young fellow, raising
his head and leaning back in his chair, his face the picture of despair.
"We were all in the library and the place was boiling-hot, and they had
two big bowls, one full of eggnog and the other full of apple-toddy: and
the next thing I knew I was out in the hall and met Kate on the stairs.
She gave a little smothered scream, and moaned--'Oh, Harry!--and you
promised me!'--and then she put her hands to her face, as if to shut me
out of her sight. That sobered me somewhat, and after I got out on the
porch into the night air and had pulled myself together, I tried to find
her and apologize, but she had gone home, although the ball wasn't half