no wine or brandy is
served."

"Preposterous!" ejaculated Mr. Birtwell. "We'd make ourselves the
laughing-stock of the city."

"Perhaps not," returned his wife.

Mr. Birtwell shook his head and shut his mouth tightly:

"There's no use in talking about it if the thing can't be done right,
it can't be done at all."

"So say I. Still, I would do it right and show society a better way if
you were brave enough to stand by my side. But as you are not, our
party must go by default this winter."

Mrs. Birtwell smiled faintly to soften the rebuke of her words. They
had reached this point in their conversation when Mr. Elliott, their
clergyman, called. His interest in the Home for inebriates had
increased instead of abating, and he now held the place of an active
member in the board of directors. Mrs. Birtwell had, months before,
given in her adhesion to the cause of reform, and the board of lady
managers, who had a close supervision of the internal arrangements of
the Home, had few more efficient workers.

In the beginning Mr. Birtwell had "pooh-poohed" at his wife's
infatuation, as he called it, and prophesied an early collapse of the
whole affair. "The best thing to do with a drunkard," he would say,
with mocking levity, "is to let him die. The sooner he is out of the
way, the better for himself and society." But of late he had given the
matter a more respectful consideration. Still, he would have his light
word and pleasant banter both with his wife and Mr. Elliott, who often
dropped in to discuss with Mrs. Birtwell the interests of the Home.

"Just in the nick of time," exclaimed Mr. Birtwell, smiling, as he took
the clergyman's hand.

"My wife and I have had a disagreement--we quarrel dreadfully, you
know--and you must decide between us."

"Indeed! What's the trouble now?" said Mr. Elliott, looking from one to
the other.

"Well, you see, we've been discussing the party question, and are at
daggers' points."

The light which had spread over Mr. Elliott's countenance faded off
quickly, and Mr. Birtwell saw it assume a very grave aspect. But he
kept on:

"You never heard anything so preposterous. Mrs. Birtwell actually
proposes that we give a coldwater-and-lemonade entertainment. Ha! ha!"

The smile he had expected to provoke by this sally did not break into
the clergyman's face.

"But I say," Mr. Birtwell added, "do the thing right, or don't do it
all."

"What do you call right?" asked Mr. Elliott.