hen I had
put the finishing touch, in the shape of dear Ida's present--a
vinaigrette of oxidized silver formed like a half-furled fan--I was
quite satisfied with my toilette; before the day was over, however, my
_ceinture_ was adorned with a tortoise-shell chatelaine, whistle, and
tablets, as well as a dainty riding-whip--papa's present--and I deeply
mourned the impossibility of wearing two beautiful pictures, a new
novel, and a large box of Iauch's best bonbons.

When the train arrived, papa emerged, followed by our artist neighbor,
Mr. John Hows.

"Why, papa has brought up Mr. Hows!" I said. "How very--" my
exclamation of pleasure was checked by surprise at the appearance of
his brother, the musical editor of the _Express_, followed by our
friends, Dr. Taylor and Colonel Rogers.

"Is this a surprise party?" Marguerite and I inquired blankly.

My dear friend Lela Paraf then tripped out, assisted by her elegant
husband, and followed by Mr. Eugene Durkee and his brother, two Paris
friends of ours. Then the car door opened once more, and "our young
chief," as papa calls Mr. Reid, and Colonel Hay issued--a surprise
party indeed.

Ida had intended to invite only a few young gentlemen to spend the day
with us, fearing that if she sent out invitations to ladies to dinner,
some enterprising reporter might announce that she had given at least a
_fete champetre_, if not a _bal masque_, which in our deep mourning
would not be an agreeable report to be in circulation; but Lela is so
charming and dear to us all, and has remained so faithfully my most
intimate friend for the last six months, notwithstanding the rival that
I dreaded in her husband, that Ida made an exception for her.

As we were marshalling our regiment to return to the house, a tall,
dark, distinguished-looking gentleman, elegantly dressed, hastened
towards us. Who he was I could not imagine, but as his face seemed
familiar, I welcomed him with a beaming smile. He must, however, be
very near-sighted, I thought, for he overlooked my extended hand,
merely bowing very low, and going on towards the house.

"Who is he, Ida?" I said in a whisper; "I don't remember his name."

"I suppose not," said Ida, laughing; "though you have seen him often
enough. It is Emile, from Delmonico's. I sent for him to help Minna
serve the table."

I was no longer surprised that my distinguished-looking gentleman did
not shake hands with me.

When we were upon the croquet