plurge with which her
visit was closing. Nay, to speed the parting guest--such was his lavish
mood--twice and thrice over would he have paid for the lights, the
flowers, the music, the sandwiches, the coffee, the chicken salad, the
cake, the lemonade-punch, and the ice-cream.

Thus did the one thought divide itself between William and Mr. Parcher,
keeping itself deep and pure under all their other thoughts. "Miss Pratt
is going away!" thought William and Mr. Parcher. "Miss PRATT is going
away--to-morrow!"

The unuttered words advanced tragically toward the gate in the head of
William at the same time that they moved contentedly away in the head
of Mr. Parcher; for Mr. Parcher caught sight of his wife just then, and
went to join her as she sank wearily upon the front steps.

"Taking a rest for a minute?" he inquired. "By George! we're both
entitled to a good LONG rest, after to-night! If we could afford it,
we'd go away to a quiet little sanitarium in the hills, somewhere,
and--" He ceased to speak and there was the renewal of an old bitterness
in his expression as his staring eyes followed the movements of a
stately young form entering the gateway. "Look at it!" said Mr. Parcher
in a whisper. "Just look at it!"

"Look at what?" asked his wife.

"That Baxter boy!" said Mr. Parcher, as William passed on toward the
dancers. "What's he think he's imitating--Henry Irving? Look at his
walk!"

"He walks that way a good deal, lately, I've noticed," said Mrs. Parcher
in a tired voice. "So do Joe Bullitt and--"

"He didn't even come to say good evening to you," Mr. Parcher
interrupted. "Talk about MANNERS, nowadays! These young--"

"He didn't see us."

"Well, we're used to that," said Mr. Parcher. "None of 'em see us.
They've worn holes in all the cane-seated chairs, they've scuffed up the
whole house, and I haven't been able to sit down anywhere down-stairs
for three months without sitting on some dam boy; but they don't even
know we're alive! Well, thank the Lord, it's over--after to-night!" His
voice became reflective. "That Baxter boy was the worst, until he took
to coming in the daytime when I was down-town. I COULDN'T have stood it
if he'd kept on coming in the evening. If I'd had to listen to any more
of his talking or singing, either the embalmer or the lunatic-asylum
would have had me, sure! I see he's got hold of his daddy's dress-suit
again for to-night."

"Is it Mr. Baxter's dress-suit?" Mrs. Parcher inqu