New Temperance Tales. No. 1: The Son of My Friend

New Temperance Tales. No. 1:
The Son of My Friend

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Title: New Temperance Tales. No. 1: The Son of My Friend
Author: T.S. Arthur
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
Release Date: November, 2003 [Etext #4623] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on February 20,
2002]
The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Son of My Friend, by T.S. Arthur
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No. 1. THE SON OF MY FRIEND.
NEW TEMPERANCE TALES.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM."
PHILADELPHIA:
T. S. ARTHUR & SON.

THE SON OF MY FRIEND.

"I'VE been thinking," said I, speaking to my husband, who stood
drawing on his gloves.
"Have you?" he answered; "then give me the benefit of your thoughts."
"That we shall have to give a party. You know we've accepted a
number of invitations this winter, and it's but right that we should
contribute our share of social entertainment."
"I have thought as much myself," was his reply. "And so far we stand
agreed. But, as I am very busy just now, the heaviest part of the burden
will fall on you."
"There is a way of making it light, you know," I returned.
"How?" he queried.
"By employing a professional caterer. He will supply everything for the
table, and furnish writers. We will have nothing to do but receive our
guests."
My husband shrugged his shoulders and smiled, as he said, "What will
it cost?"

"Almost anything we please. But the size of the company will have the
most to do with that."
"Say we invite one hundred."
"Then we can make the cost range anywhere between three hundred
dollars and a thousand."
"A large sum to throw away on a single evening's entertainment of our
friends. I am very sure I could put it to a better use."
"Very likely," I answered. "Still, we cannot well help ourselves. Unless
we give a party, we shall have to decline invitations in future. But there
is no obligation resting on us to make it sensational. Let the Hardings
and the Marygolds emulate extravagance in this line; we must be
content with a fair entertainment; and no friend worth the name will
have any the less respect for us."
"All that is a question of money and good fame," said my husband, his
voice falling into a more serious tone. "I can make it three, five, or ten
hundred dollars, and forget all about the cost in a week. But the wine
and the brandy will not set so easily on my conscience."
A slight but sudden chill went through my nerves.
"If we could only throw them out?"
"There is no substitute," replied my husband, "that