“You'll need this,” said Chris, pushing a clothes-brush and a whisk-broom on to a chair, “and you'll find plenty of water on the stand yonder;” then he came out and closed the door, to the infinite and audible relief of the serving-maid Martha. Indeed but for the all too serious side of the whole affair, it would have been amusing to watch that little maid. So great was her horror, either by education or intuition, of the state of inebriety, that the moment she surmised that at least two of these midnight visitors were bordering on the same, she could conceive of no means strong enough to express her disapproval. Every time she had come anywhere near them she had gathered her skirts about her as though in fear of actual contamination, and with her pretty head high in the air, as she moved away, would look askance over her shoulder as though not at all sure even then of being at a safe distance. Indeed, Chris himself could not quite suppress a smile as he saw the relief expressed in every line of Martha's face at the click of the closing door.