for
the contrast. Her heart rose buoyantly as she realized the success of
the gown, and she ran downstairs with sudden gay confidence in herself
and her party.

Her father and mother, with Mrs. Potts, had considerately disappeared.
Malcolm had gone down town; the ladies, wrapped in shawls, were
gossiping in Mrs. Potts's vaultlike chamber. Lydia was moving about in
the downstairs rooms.

"Oh, Martie, Rose telephoned," Lydia said as her sister came in, "and
she says that Mr. Rice and her mother say she must come up to-night, if
it's only for a little while. She's going to bring her violin."

"Oh, that's good," Martie answered absently, sitting down to play "The
Two Grenadiers" with great spirit. "There's some one now, Lyd!" she
added in a half panic, as the doorbell rang. Lydia, her colour rising
suddenly, went to the door, raising her hand above as she passed under
the gaslight to turn the lights to their full brilliancy. The first
arrival was Angela Baxter, with her music roll under her arm. She
kissed Lydia, and went upstairs with Sally.

Then there were other feet on the porch: in came the German girls and
Laura Carter, hooded in knitted fragile scarfs, and wrapped in pale
blue and pink circular capes edged narrowly with fluffy eiderdown.
Elmer King, hoarsely respectful, and young Potter Street followed.
Martie, taking the girls upstairs, called back to them that she would
send Len down. While they were all in Lydia's room, laying off wraps
and powdering noses, Maude Alien came up, and "Dutch" Harrison's older
sister Kate, and Amy Scott, and Martie was so funny and kept them all
in such roars of laughter that Sally was conscious of a shameless wish
that this was what Monroe called a "hen party," with no men asked. Then
they could have games, Proverbs and even Hide-the-Thimble, and every
one would feel happy and at home.

When they went down Robert Archer, a quiet mild young man who was in
the real estate business, had come; and he and Elmer and Potter were
sitting silently in the parlour. Martie and Sally and the other girls
went in, and every one tried to talk gaily and naturally as the young
men stood up, but there seemed to be no reason why they should not all
sit down, and, once seated, it seemed hard to talk. What Martie said
was met with a nervous glimmer of laughter and a few throaty
monosyllables.

Sally wanted to suggest games, but did not dare. Martie, and indeed
every one else, would have been glad