n. Harris was firmly introduced to
Mr. Lyman Ford, sole owner and proprietor of the Lipsittsville _Ozone_.
He was backed into a corner, and filled with tidings about the glories
of Mr. and Mrs. Seth Appleby, their social position and athletic prowess
and financial solidity, and the general surpassing greatness of
Lipsittsville. In fact, Mr. Ford overdid it a little, and Mr. Hartwig
began to look suspicious--like a man about to sneeze, or one who fears
that you are going to try to borrow money from him.

But with an awkward wonder which expressed itself in his growing
shyness, his splay-footed awkwardness, his rapidly increasing deference
to Father, Mr. Hartwig saw Lena, the maid, spread forth tables for the
social and intellectual game of progressive euchre; saw Father combat
mightily with that king of euchre-players, Squire Trowbridge; saw the
winners presented with expensive-looking prizes. And there were
refreshments. The Lipsittsville _Ozone_ would, in next Thursday's issue,
be able to say, "Dainty refreshments, consisting of angel's-food,
ice-cream, coffee, macaroons, and several kinds of pleasing sandwiches,
were served."

Miss Mattie Ford, the society editor of the _Ozone_, was at her wittiest
during the food-consumption, and a discussion of Roosevelt and the
co-operative creamery engaged some of the brightest minds in
Lipsittsville. Father, listening entranced, whispered to Mother, as he
passed her with his tray of ice-cream, "I guess Harris don't hear any
bright talk like this in Saserkopee. Look at him. Goggle-eyed. I always
said he looked like a frog. Except that he looks more like a hog."

"I won't have you carrying on and being rude," Mother said, most
convincingly.

The party did not end till clear after eleven. When the street was loud
with the noise of cars starting, and quantities of ladies in silk wraps
laughingly took their departure, Mr. Harris Hartwig stood deserted by
the fireplace. When the door had closed on the last of the revelers
Father returned, glanced once at him, coldly stopped to pick up a chair
which had been upset, then stalked up to Harris and faced him, boring
him with an accusing glance.

"Well," said Harris, uneasily, "you sure got-- Say, I certainly got to
hand it to you, Father Appleby." Like a big, blubbery, smear-faced
school-boy he complained, "Gee! I don't think it's fair, making a goat
of me this way, when I came to do you a service and take you home and
all."

He was