CHAPTER XV.
"Why, Bert!--you're squiffed!" Mary cried reproachfully.
The four were at the table in the private room at Barnum's.

The wedding supper, simple enough, but seemingly too expensive to Saxon, had been eaten.

Bert, in his hand a glass of California red wine, which the management supplied for fifty cents a bottle, was on his feet endeavoring a speech.

His face was flushed; his black eyes were feverishly bright.
"You've ben drinkin' before you met me," Mary continued.

"I can see it stickin' out all over you." "Consult an oculist, my dear," he replied.