und,
and there was Arabella sitting on her hind legs, with a card tied to her
neck, and the card said that at eleven there would be a clambake in the
kitchen for all the guests.

(The clambake was my idea, but the dog, of course, was Miss Julia's. I
never saw a woman so full of ideas, although it seems that what should
have been on the platter was the head of somebody or other.)

Just after the dance I saw Mr. von Inwald talking to Miss Patty. He had
been ugly all evening, and now he looked like a devil. She stood facing
him with her head thrown back and her fingers twisting her ruby ring.
I guessed that she was about as much surprised as anything else, people
having a habit of being pleasant to her most of the time. He left her
in a rage, and as he went he collided with Arabella and kicked her.
Miss Patty went white but Miss Summers was not a bit put out. She simply
picked up the howling dog and confronted Mr. von Inwald.

"Perhaps you didn't notice," she said sweetly, "but you kicked my dog."

"Why don't you keep her out of the way?" he snarled, and they stood
glaring at each other.

"Under the circumstances, Arabella," Miss Julia said--and everybody
was listening--"we can only withdraw Mr. von Inwald's invitation to the
kitchen."

"Thank you, I had not intended to go," he said furiously, and went out
into the veranda, slamming the door behind him. Mr. Jennings looked up
from where he was playing chess by the fire and nodded at Miss Summers.

"Serves him right for his temper!" he said.

"Checkmate!" said the bishop.

Mr. Jennings turned and glared at the board. Then with one sweep he
threw all the chessmen on the floor. As Tillie said later, it would be
a pity to spoil two houses with Mr. von Inwald and Mr. Jennings If they
were in the same family, they could work it off on each other.

Miss Patty came down to the news stand and pretended to hunt for a
magazine. I reached over and stroked her hand. "Don't take it too hard,
dearie," I said. "He's put out to-night, and maybe he isn't well. Men
are like babies. If their stomachs are all right and have plenty in
them, they're pleasant enough. It's been my experience that your cranky
man's a sick man."

"I don't think he is sick, Minnie," she said, with a catch in her voice.
"I--I think he is just dev--devilish!"

Well, I thought that too, so I just stroked her hand, and after a minute
she got her color again. "It is hard for him," she said. "He thinks this