"If he has gone into that bar-room, I'll have him out, no matter who is there!" growled Mac to himself, as he made his way to the small apartment whither the gentlemen retired for a little private refreshment when the spirit moved, as it often did.
The door was ajar, and Charlie seemed to have just entered; for Mac heard a familiar voice call out, in a jovial tone,—
"Come, Prince! you're just in time to help us drink Steve's health with all the honors."
"Can't stop; only ran in to say good-night, Van. Had a capital time; but I'm on duty, and must go."
"That's a new dodge. Take a stirrup-cup anyway, and come back in time for a merry-go-rounder when you've disposed of the ladies," answered the young host, diving into the wine-cooler for another bottle.
"Charlie's going in for sanctity, and it doesn't seem to agree with him," laughed one of the two other young men, who occupied several chairs apiece, resting their soles in every sense of the word.
"Apron-strings are coming into fashion,—the bluer the better: hey, Prince?" added the other, trying to be witty, with the usual success.
"You'd better go home early yourself, Barrow, or that tongue of yours will get you into trouble," retorted Charlie, conscious that he ought to take his own advice, yet lingering, nervously putting on his gloves, while the glasses were being filled.
"Now, brother-in-law, fire away! Here you are,
