They left the
Colonel dreamily, murmurously happy in a chair at the end of the City
Hotel bar.
Here, he was discovered about six-thirty by Eustace Eubanks, who had
incautiously thought to rebuke him.
"For shame, Colonel Potts!" began Eustace, seeking to fix the uncertain
eyes with his finger of scorn. "For shame to have squandered all that
money for rum. Don't you know, sir, that a hundred and sixty thousand
men die yearly in our land from the effects of rum?"
"Hundred sixty thousand!" mused the Colonel, in polite amazement. "Well,
well, figures can't lie! What of it?"
"You have dishonestly spent that money given to you in sacred trust."
This seemed to arouse Potts, and he surveyed Eubanks with more curiosity
than delight. He arose, buttoned his coat, fixed his hat firmly upon his
head, and took up his stick and bag. He put upon Eustace a glance of
dignified urbanity, as he spoke.
"I don't know who you are, sir,--never saw you before in my life,--but I
have done what every good citizen should do. I have spent my money at
home. This is a cheap place, full of cheap men. What the town needs,
sir, is capital--capital to develop its attributes and industries.
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