ist the temptation to be more and more
astonishing as a heroic comedian, for these humors sometimes come upon
vain people at country dinners.

George ate when he had eaten more than he needed; he ate long after
every one understood why he was so vast; he ate on and on sheerly as
a flourish--as a spectacle. He ate even when he himself began to
understand that there was daring in what he did, for his was a toreador
spirit so long as he could keep bright eyes fastened upon him.

Finally, he ate to decide wagers made upon his gorging, though at times
during this last period his joviality deserted him. Anon his damp brow
would be troubled, and he knew moments of thoughtfulness.

XXI

MY LITTLE SWEETHEARTS

When George did stop, it was abruptly, during one of these intervals of
sobriety, and he and Miss Pratt came out of the house together rather
quietly, joining one of the groups of young people chatting with
after-dinner languor under the trees. However, Mr. Crooper began to
revive presently, in the sweet air of outdoors, and, observing some
of the more flashing gentlemen lighting cigarettes, he was moved to
laughter. He had not smoked since his childhood--having then been bonded
through to twenty-one with a pledge of gold--and he feared that these
smoking youths might feel themselves superior. Worse, Miss Pratt might
be impressed, therefore he laughed in scorn, saying:

"Burnin' up ole trash around here, I expect!" He sniffed searchingly.
"Somebody's set some ole rags on fire." Then, as in discovery, he cried,
"Oh no, only cigarettes!"

Miss Pratt, that tactful girl, counted four smokers in the group about
her, and only one abstainer, George. She at once defended the smokers,
for it is to be feared that numbers always had weight with her. "Oh, but
cigarettes is lubly smell!" she said. "Untle Georgiecums maybe be too
'ittle boy for smokings!"

This archness was greeted loudly by the smokers, and Mr. Crooper was
put upon his mettle. He spoke too quickly to consider whether or no the
facts justified his assertion. "Me? I don't smoke paper and ole carpets.
I smoke cigars!"

He had created the right impression, for Miss Pratt clapped her hands.
"Oh, 'plendid! Light one, Untle Georgiecums! Light one ever 'n' ever so
quick! P'eshus Flopit an' me we want see dray, big, 'normous man smoke
dray, big, 'normous cigar!"

William and Johnnie Watson, who had been hovering morbidly, unable to
resist the lodestone, came