Tooth-Mug Tea

"Bill!" Milt ordered. "We must have some tea. Here's six-bits. You run
down to the corner grocery and get some tea and a little cream. Oh, you
better buy three-four cups, too. Hustle now, son!"

"Attaboy! Yours to command, ladies and gents, like the fellow says!"
Bill boomed delightedly. He winked at Jeff Saxton, airily spun his
broken hat on his dirty forefinger, and sauntered out.

"Charming fellow. A real original," crooned Mrs. Gilson.

"Did he know your friend Mr. Pinky?" asked Saxton.

Before Milt could answer, Claire rose from the bed, inspected the
Gilsons and Jeff with cold dislike, and said quietly to Milt, "The poor
dear thing--he was dreadfully embarrassed. It's so good of you to be
nice to him. I believe in being loyal to your old friends."

"Oh, so do I!" babbled Mrs. Gilson. "It's just too splendid. And we
must do something for him. I'm going to invite Mr. Daggett and Mr.--Mr.
McGollups, was it?--to dinner this evening. I do want to hear him tell
about your boyhood. It must have been so interesting."

"It was," mused Milt. "It was poor and miserable. We had to work
hard--we had to fight for whatever education we got--we had no one to
teach us courtesy."

"Oh now, with your fine old doctor father? Surely he was an
inspiration?" Jeff didn't, this time, trouble to hide the sneer.

"Yes. He was. He gave up the chance to be a rich loafer in order to save
farmers' babies for fees that he never got."