And he took me over to where they had things to
eat, and just heaped my plate with chicken patties and sandwiches and
olives and pink-and-white frosted cakes and ice-cream (not all at
once, of course, but in order). And I had a perfectly beautiful time.
And Father seemed to like it pretty well. But after a while he grew
sober again, and his eyes began to rove all around the room.

He took me to a little seat in the corner then, and we sat down and
began to talk--only Father didn't talk much. He just listened to what
I said, and his eyes grew deeper and darker and sadder, and they
didn't rove around so much, after a time, but just stared fixedly at
nothing, away out across the room. By and by he stirred and drew a
long sigh, and said, almost under his breath:

"It was just such another night as this."

And of course, I asked what was--and then I knew, almost before he had
told me.

"That I first saw your mother, my dear."

"Oh, yes, I know!" I cried, eager to tell him that I _did_ know. "And
she must have looked lovely in that perfectly beautiful blue silk
dress all silver lace."

He turned and stared at me.

"How did _you_ know that?" he demanded.

"I saw it."

"You saw it!"

"Yesterday, yes--the dress," I nodded.

"But how _could_ you?" he asked, frowning, and looking so surprised.
"Why, that dress must be--seventeen years old, or more."

I nodded again, and I suppose I did look pleased: it's such fun to
have a secret, you know, and watch folks guess and wonder. And I kept
him guessing and wondering for quite a while. Then, of course, I told
him that it was upstairs in Grandfather's trunk-room; that Mother had
got it out, and I saw it.

"But, what--was your mother doing with that dress?" he asked then,
looking even more puzzled and mystified.

And then suddenly I thought and remembered that Mother was crying.
And, of course, she wouldn't want Father to know she was crying over
it--that dress she had worn when he first met her long ago! (I don't
think women ever want men to know such things, do you? I know I
shouldn't!) So I didn't tell. I just kind of tossed it off, and
mumbled something about her looking it over; and I was going to say
something else, but I saw that Father wasn't listening. He had begun
to talk again, softly, as if to himself.

"I suppose to-night, seeing you, and all this, brought it back to me
so vividly." Then he turned and looked at me. "You are very like your
mother to-night,