"Go and spend your money with them, then, and don't come insulting
decent people," said Celia.

"Before strangers, too!" the young man called out, with beery sarcasm.
"Oh, we'll take care of the strangers all right." He had not seemed to
be aware of Theron's presence, much less his identity, before; but he
turned to him now with a knowing grin. "I'm running for the Assembly,
Mr. Ware," he said, speaking loudly and with deliberate effort to avoid
the drunken elisions and comminglings to which his speech tended, "and I
want you to fix up the Methodists solid for me. I'm going to drive over
to the camp-meeting tonight, me and some of the boys in a barouche, and
I'll put a twenty-dollar bill on their plate. Here it is now, if you
want to see it."

As the young man began fumbling in a vest-pocket, Theron gathered his
wits together.

"You'd better not go this evening," he said, as convincingly as he
knew how; "because the gates will be closed very early, and the
Saturday-evening services are of a particularly special nature, quite
reserved for those living on the grounds."

"Rats!" said Theodore, raising his head, and abandoning the search for
the bill. "Why don't you speak out like a man, and say you think I'm too
drunk?"

"I don't think that is a question which need arise between us, Mr.
Madden," murmured Theron, confusedly.

"Oh, don't you make any mistake! A hell of a lot of questions arise