new lodgings would make a fair kennel, wouldn't they,
Burgess?--if a man isn't too particular about his dog."

The servant entered with a nasty smirk. "Yes, sir; I seen a rat
last night."

"He's not the only one, is he, Burgess," yawned Berkley. "Oh,
hell! I've got to dress. Did you paint that bathtub? I guess you
did, the place reeks like a paint shop. Anyway, it kills less
desirable aromas. Where's the water?"

He swung his symmetrical body to the bed's edge, dropped lightly to
the carpet, unloosed his night robe, and stretched himself.

"Was I very drunk, Burgess?"

"No, sir; you just went to sleep. You haven't got no headache,
have you?"

"No--but it was only corn whisky. I didn't remember what I did
with it. Is there any left?"

"Not much, sir."

The servant, ugly to the verge of deformity, and wearing invariably
the abominable smirk that disgusted others but amused Berkley, went
about his duties.

Berkley blinked at him reflectively, then bathed, dressed, and sat
down to a bowl of chocolate and a bit of bread.

"What the devil was all that row this morning, Burgess?"

"War, sir. The President has called for seventy-five thousand men.
Here it is, sir." And he laid a morning paper beside the cup of
chocolate, which Berkley studied between sips, commenting
occasionally aloud:

"Heavens, Burgess, why, we're a race of patriots! Now who on earth
could have suspected that. . . . Why, we seem to be heroes, too!
What do you think of that, Burgess? You're a hero; I'm a hero;
everybody north of Charleston is an embattled citizen or a hero!
Isn't it funny that nobody realised all this before?" . . . He
turned the paper leisurely sipping his chocolate. . . . "_Of_
course--the 'dear old flag'! That's the cheese, isn't it, Burgess?
Been insulted, hasn't it? And we're all going to Charleston to
punch that wicked Beauregard in the nose. . . . Burgess, you and I
are neglecting our duty as heroes; there's much shouting to be done
yet, much yelling in the streets, much arguing to be done, many,
many cocktails to be firmly and uncompromisingly swallowed. Are
you prepared to face the serious consequences of being a hero?"

"Yes, sir," said Burgess.

"You merit well of the republic! The country needs you. Here's
half a dollar. Do your duty unflinchingly--at the nearest bar!"

Burgess took the coin with a smirk.

"Mr. Berkley, the landlady sent word that times is hard."

"Bless her soul! The