ers a moment,
and taking in her beauty and her style with a generous admiration which
she could afford, for she was herself faultlessly dressed in the quiet
taste of her city, and looking very pretty. The interval was long
enough to let every man present confide his sense of Irene's beauty to
every other; and then, as the party was small, Mrs. Corey made
everybody acquainted. When Lapham had not quite understood, he held
the person's hand, and, leaning urbanely forward, inquired, "What
name?" He did that because a great man to whom he had been presented on
the platform at a public meeting had done so to him, and he knew it
must be right.

A little lull ensued upon the introductions, and Mrs. Corey said
quietly to Mrs. Lapham, "Can I send any one to be of use to Miss
Lapham?" as if Penelope must be in the dressing-room.

Mrs. Lapham turned fire-red, and the graceful forms in which she had
been intending to excuse her daughter's absence went out of her head.
"She isn't upstairs," she said, at her bluntest, as country people are
when embarrassed. "She didn't feel just like coming to-night. I don't
know as she's feeling very well."

Mrs. Corey emitted a very small "O!"--very small, very cold,--which
began to grow larger and hotter and to burn into Mrs. Lapham's soul
before Mrs. Corey could add, "I'm very sorry. It's nothing serious, I
hope?"

Robert Chase, the painter, had not come, and Mrs. James Bellingham was
not there, so that the table really balanced better without Penelope;
but Mrs. Lapham could not know this, and did not deserve to know it.
Mrs. Corey glanced round the room, as if to take account of her guests,
and said to her husband, "I think we are all here, then," and he came
forward and gave his arm to Mrs. Lapham. She perceived then that in
their determination not to be the first to come they had been the last,
and must have kept the others waiting for them.

Lapham had never seen people go down to dinner arm-in-arm before, but
he knew that his wife was distinguished in being taken out by the host,
and he waited in jealous impatience to see if Tom Corey would offer his
arm to Irene. He gave it to that big girl they called Miss Kingsbury,
and the handsome old fellow whom Mrs. Corey had introduced as her
cousin took Irene out. Lapham was startled from the misgiving in which
this left him by Mrs. Corey's passing her hand through his arm, and he
made a sudden movement forward, but felt himself gently