The Poundstones entered. At the entrance to the living room the
butler announced sonorously: "Mayor Poundstone and Mrs. Poundstone."

"Glad to see you aboard the ship," Colonel Pennington boomed with his
best air of hearty expansiveness. "Well, well," he continued, leading
Mrs. Poundstone to a divan in front of the fire, "this is certainly
delightful. My niece will be down in two shakes of a lamb's tail.
Have a cigarette, Mr. Poundstone."

In the midst of the commonplace chatter incident to such occasions,
Shirley entered the room; and the Colonel, leaving her to entertain
the guests, went to a small sideboard in one corner and brought forth
the "materials," as he jocularly termed them. James appeared like
magic with a tray, glasses, and tiny serviettes, and the Colonel's
elixir was passed to the company.

"To your beautiful eyes, Mrs. Poundstone," was Pennington's debonair
toast as he fixed Mrs. P.'s green orbs with his own. "Poundstone,
your very good health, sir."

"Dee-licious," murmured Mrs. Poundstone. "Perfectly dee-licious. And
not a bit strong!"

"Have another," her hospitable host suggested, and he poured it,
quite oblivious of the frightened wink which the mayor telegraphed
his wife.

"I will, if Miss Sumner will join me," Mrs. P. acquiesced.