.

Park Lane.
Clive woke up the next morning to be aware of a racking headache, and, by the dim light of his throbbing eyes, to behold his father with solemn face at his bed-foot--a reproving conscience to greet his waking.
"You drank too much wine last night, and disgraced yourself, sir," the old soldier said.

"You must get up and eat humble pie this morning, my boy." "Humble what, father ?" asked the lad, hardly aware of his words, or the scene before him.

"Oh, I've got such a headache!" "Serve you right, sir.

Many a young fellow has had to go on parade in the morning, with a headache earned overnight.