on--and be convinced.

They began with Burnett's dinner in the private room. No matter where the
private room was, for it really wasn't a private room at all--it was a
suite of rooms borrowed and arranged especially for that one occasion.
They gathered there at eight o'clock and began with oysters served on a
large brass tray in a half-dim Turkish room where incense sticks burned
about and queer daggers held up the curtains. The oysters were served on
their arrival and the megaphones stood like extinguishers over each with
the name cards tied to the small end. The effect was really unique. Aunt
Mary had one, too, and they were all rejoiced at her delight in the
scheme, and a few seconds after they were doubly rejoiced over its success
for no one had to speak loud--the megaphones did it all, producing a lovely
clamor which deafened all those who could hear and caused Aunt Mary to
feel that she heard with the rest.

Amidst the cheerful din they exchanged such very wild remarks as oysters
always inspire and each and all were mutually content at the effect
thereof. Then they finished, and Burnett rose at once, flung back the
portieres, and led them in upon their soup which stood smoking on a large
card table in the next room. There were boutonnieres with the soup, and
violets for Aunt Mary, and again they used the megaphones and again the
conversation partook of the customary conversation which soup produces.

The soup finished, Burnett jumped up again and threw back other portieres
and they all moved out into a dining-room, with its table spread with a
substantial dinner. This time it was the real thing. Candelabra,
ice-pails, etc.

Aunt Mary had a parrot in a gilt tower, and all the men had white mice in
houses shaped like hat-boxes. Mitchell's seat was flanked with wine
coolers, and Burnett's, too. There was all that they could desire to eat
and drink and more. The feast began, and it was grand and glorious.

"I'll tell you what," said Aunt Mary, in the midst of the revel, "if this
is what it means in papers when it speaks of high livin', I don't blame
'em for bein' willin' to die of it young. One week like this is worth ten
years with Lucinda. Twenty. A whole life."

"Say, Jack," said Burnett in an undertone, "let's have Lucinda come to
town next and see the effect on her."

"Miss Watkins," said Clover through his megaphone, "as a mark of my
affection I beg to offer you my white mouse. Do you accept?"

"Oh, I d