"There isn't a bit more harm in it than in a game of ball." "But I don't know how," objected Max.
"I'll teach you," said Ralph.

"You'll soon learn and will find it good sport." At length Max yielded, though not without some qualms of conscience which he tried to quiet by saying to himself, "Papa never said I shouldn't play in this way; only that gambling was very wicked, and I must never go where it was done." "Have a cigar ?" said Ralph, producing two, handing one to Max, and proceeding to light the other.

"You smoke, of course; every gentleman does." Max never had, and did not care to, but was so foolish as to be ashamed to refuse after that last remark of Ralph's; beside having seen his father smoke a cigar occasionally, he thought there could be no harm in it.
"Thank you, I don't care if I do," he said, and was soon puffing away as if quite accustomed to it.
But it was not many minutes before he began to feel sick and faint, then to find himself trembling and growing giddy.
He tried to conceal his sensations, and fought against them as long as possible.

But at length, finding he could endure it no longer, he threw the stump of the cigar into the fire, and rising, said, "I--I feel sick.

I must get out into the air." He took a step forward, staggered, and would have fallen, if Ralph had not jumped up and caught him.
"Here, I'll help you to the bed and open the window," he said.