South Wind Part 52

"Oh, shut up! You are making a perfect exhibition of yourself. Can't you oblige me, for once in the way?"

Denis was growing seriously alarmed for the reputation of his friend.

He had changed of late; he was beginning to know his own mind. He meant to put a stop to this humiliating scene. As the other, regardless of his pleadings, continued to babble dithyrambic nonsense concerning glucose and self-fertilization and artificial manures and inflorescence and a.s.syrian bas-reliefs and Stilton cheese, he suddenly gripped his arm and pulled him, with a crash, into his chair.

"Sit down, you double-distilled owl!"

This was the first virile achievement of his young life, and directed to a worthy end. For it was obvious to the meanest intelligence that Mr. Keith was considerably drunk. Too surprised to utter a word of protest, the orator paused in his declamation, beaming blandly at n.o.body in particular. Then he remarked, in quite a subdued tone of voice:

"We are all at the mercy of youth. Mr. Richards! Could you oblige me with a fairy-tale?"