To the health of the bride.

McTeague, McTeague, speech, speech!" In an instant the whole table was clamoring for the dentist to speak.
McTeague was terrified; he gripped the table with both hands, looking wildly about him.
"Speech, speech!" shouted Marcus, running around the table and endeavoring to drag McTeague up.
"No--no--no," muttered the other.

"No speech." The company rattled upon the table with their beer glasses, insisting upon a speech.

McTeague settled obstinately into his chair, very red in the face, shaking his head energetically.
"Ah, go on!" he exclaimed; "no speech." "Ah, get up and say somethun, anyhow," persisted Marcus; "you ought to do it.

It's the proper caper." McTeague heaved himself up; there was a burst of applause; he looked slowly about him, then suddenly sat down again, shaking his head hopelessly.
"Oh, go on, Mac," cried Trina.
"Get up, say somethun, anyhow," cried Marcus, tugging at his arm; "you GOT to." Once more McTeague rose to his feet.
"Huh!" he exclaimed, looking steadily at the table.