of myself."

"That sounds serious. Was it?"

"Yes. No. Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose it was really serious....
But the whole thing has made me cross."

She labored under an urgent necessity to tell somebody all about it,
that was evident.

"You see," she plunged without preamble into her confidence, "from the
beginning, I didn't want that party! I love to have folks to dinner, any
number, all the time. You know I just love a jollification. But this was
different, as I knew it was going to be. It began with Charlie Hunt
telling me--or, not exactly telling, I forget how it came out--that
yesterday was his birthday. I said, 'Come and celebrate with us!' I was
thinking of making a big cake and sticking it full of pink candles. And
from that simple beginning, blessed if I know how it happened, except my
always wanting to say yes to anything anybody proposes, it came to be a
regular dinner-party, the kind they give over here, with courses and
wines and finger-bowls, all the frills, and twelve people, not friends
of mine at all, barely acquaintances, but people Charlie Hunt thought it
would be nice to ask. Well, it was my fault, every bit of it, and nobody
else's. I've no business to say all those joyful yeses if I don't mean
them. Good enough for me if I have to swallow my pill afterwards without
so much as making a face. It wasn't so bad, after all, everything went
all right, thanks to Clotilde and Charlie. Only I wasn't having much
fun. Charlie had planned how people should sit, and Mr. Landini was on
one side of me, and he was making himself terribly agreeable. He means
all right, but his talk, as I guess you know, isn't a bit my kind. And
last night, I don't mind telling you--" her voice dropped to a note
confidentially low, "with his compliments and incinerations, you'd
almost have thought he was sweet on me. Only I know better. And so, as I
say, I wasn't having much fun. Then I don't know what got into me. They
were passing the fruit. I got up and went to the sideboard and took one
of those fine hot-house looking peaches out of our permanent assortment
that needs dusting every few days, and I came back to my seat and
offered that marble fruit with a fetching smile to Mr. Landini. He
looked as if he felt I was bestowing a very particular favor. He took
it--and it dropped out of his hand on to the plate with a crash that
laid it in smithereens.... You can see why I am cross."

"I shouldn't be surprised, dear woma