ees was taking up the
invitation cards like tickets,--a precaution to prevent the rowdy element
from Ripton coming and eating up the refreshments. Austen obediently tied
Pepper in a field, as he was directed, and made his way by a path through
the woods towards the house, where the Ripton Band could be heard playing
the second air in the programme, "Don't you wish you'd Waited?"

For a really able account of that memorable entertainment see the Ripton
Record of that week, for we cannot hope to vie with Mr. Pardriff when his
heart is really in his work. How describe the noble figure of Mr. Crewe
as it burst upon Austen when he rounded the corner of the house? Clad in
a rough-and-ready manner, with a Gladstone collar to indicate the newly
acquired statesmanship, and fairly radiating geniality, Mr. Crewe stood
at the foot of the steps while the guests made the circuit of the
driveway; and they carefully avoided, in obedience to a warning sign, the
grass circle in the centre. As man and wife confronted him, Mr. Crewe
greeted them in hospitable but stentorian tones that rose above the
strains of "Don't you wish you'd Waited?" It was Mr. Ball who introduced
his townspeople to the great man who was to represent them.

"How are you?" said Mr. Crewe, with his eyes on the geraniums. "Mr. and
Mrs. Perley Wright, eh? Make yourselves at home. Everything's free
--you'll find the refreshments on the back porch--just have an eye to the
signs posted round, that's all." And Mr. and Mrs. Perley Wright,
overwhelmed by such a welcome, would pass on into a back eddy of
neighbours, where they would stick, staring at a sign requesting them
please not to pick the flowers.

"Can't somebody stir 'em up?" Mr. Crewe shouted in an interval when the
band had stopped to gather strength for a new effort. "Can't somebody
move 'em round to see the cows and what's in the house and the automobile
and the horses? Move around the driveway, please. It's so hot here you
can't breathe. Some of you wanted to see what was in the house. Now's
your chance."

This graceful appeal had some temporary effect, but the congestion soon
returned, when a man of the hour appeared, a man whose genius scattered
the groups and who did more to make the party a success than any single
individual,--Mr. Hamilton Tooting, in a glorious white silk necktie with
purple flowers.

"I'll handle 'em, Mr. Crewe," he said; "a little brains'll start 'em
goin'. Come along here, Mr. Wright