It was a surrey that approached. Miss Coggeshall had a motor car, but she rarely used it herself. Her ancestors had not needed such things. Her man handed her down, and she preceded her charges up the steps trippingly, in spite of her weight.

Jimmy and Marvin presently descended together, a comely pair but different. A few minutes later Jimmy took in the guest of honor, the two beauties followed, and Marvin brought up the rear with the hostess.

“Well,” said she when settled in her chair, “we are getting near the scattering time.”

“Yes,” agreed Kate, “but we shall get together again. Cynthia expects to come east at the holidays, and Gratia is coming back in September.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Gratia. “Next year I hope you will let me come and see you often. Mother thinks you are awfully good for me. You—”

“Gratia,” broke in the hostess, “I love you dearly, and I want you to call me by my name.”

Gratia colored delicately, and silently began to eat her clams.

“And where are you going to be, Mr. Mahan?”

“In New York, Mrs. Hogg.”

“Ah!”

Marvin thought it over. He had suddenly become Mr. Mahan, and evidently was not going to be invited for any more week-ends. Mrs. Hogg was going to prevent him from seeing Gratia.

Cynthia leaned forward in all her richness and showed her knowledge of King Lear, which was recent. “And now our Jimmy joy, although the last, not least, what about you? We want to know, for Gratia is the King of France and I am Burgundy.”

All eyes turned from Cynthia to Jimmy, while Marvin felt Burgundy’s right hand daringly press his left beneath the table-cloth.

Jimmy took off his spotless glasses and rubbed them.

“I don’t imagine I shall get home even at the holidays. Mr. Ferry has been good enough to ask me to come out to Chicago.”

“Tip top!” cried Marvin.

“I don’t imagine—”

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