What would you do
If they came true?

"What can it be?
_Hearts_! for Miss Letty--
Sweethearts and beaux,
Monarchs in rows,
Knaves on their knees--
Choose among these!

"Clubs now, I see!
_Ace_! for Miss Betty--
Clubman and swell,
Soldier as well.
Yes, he's all three;
Who can he be?

"Ione, be kind
To monarch and knave,
But make up your mind
To make 'em behave.
And when a man finds _you_
The nicest he's met, he
Is likely to marry you,
Letty and Betty!"

Tremendous cheering greeted these sentiments; three more cheers
were proposed and given for the Canterbury.

"Home of the 'ster arts, m-music an' 'r' drama-r-r--" observed
Casson hazily--"I'm going home."

Nobody seemed to hear him.

"Home--ser-weet home," he repeated sentimentally--"home among the
horses--where some Roman-nosed, camel-backed, slant-eared nag is
probably waitin' to kick daylight out'r me! Ladies, farewell!" he
added, tripping up on his spurs and waving his hand vaguely.
"Cav'lry's eyes 'n' ears 'f army! 'Tain't the hind legs' No--_no_!
_I'm_ head 'n' ears--army! 'n' I wan' t' go home."

For a while he remained slanting against the piano, thoughtfully
attempting to pry out the strings; then Wye returned from putting
Miss Carew and Miss Trent into a carriage.

"You come to the fort with me," he said. "That'll sober you. I
sleep near the magazine."

Berkley's face looked dreadfully battered and white, but he was
master of himself, careful of his equilibrium, and very polite to
everybody.

"You're--hic!--killin' yourself," said Cortlandt, balancing himself
carefully in the doorway.

"Don't put it that way," protested Berkley. "I'm trying to make
fast time, that's all. I'm in a hurry."

The other wagged his head: "_You_ won't last long if you keep this
up. The--hic!--trouble with you is that you can't get decently
drunk. You just turn blue and white. That's
what's--matter--_you_! And it kills the kind of--hic!--of man you
are. B-b'lieve me," he added shedding tears, "I'm fon' 'v' you,
Ber--hic!--kley."

He shed a few more scalding tears, waved his hand in resignation,
bowed his head, caught sight of his own feet, regarded them with
surprise.

"Whose?" he inquired naively.

"Yours," said Berkley reassuringly. "They don't want to go to bed."

"Put 'em to bed!" said Cortlandt in a stem voice. "No business
wand'ring 'round here this time of night!"

So Berkley escorted C