avered; it suddenly came out bold. "My land!" she exclaimed
full-bloodedly, "there goes a woman who's not a bit slimmer than me!
Look here, let's try. Not right before everybody. I see a side room
where it's nice and dark. Come on in there." As, hardly muffling a gleam
of peculiar and novel amusement, he escorted her toward the room
indicated, she reassured him, "I'm big, but I'm light on my feet."

Charlie was afterward fond of telling that he had taught Mrs. Hawthorne
to dance. But the single lesson he gave her did not of a truth take her
beyond the point where, holding hands with him, like children, and
counting one-two-three, she tried hopping on this foot, then on the
other. For Mrs. Foss, who seemed to have specially at heart that the new
people should enjoy themselves, in her idea of securing this end,
brought one person after the other to be introduced.

How carefully selected these were, or how diplomatically prepared, the
good hostess alone could know.

"Oh, I'm having such a good time!" Mrs. Hawthorne sighed from a full and
happy heart, later in the evening, having gone to sit beside her hostess
on the little corner sofa which that tired woman had selected for a
moment's rest. The dancing was passing before them. "It's the loveliest
party I ever was to. What delightful friends you have, Mrs. Foss, and
what a lot of them! I've made ever so many friends, too, this evening.
Mrs. Satterlee has told me about the Home she's interested in, and Miss
Seymour about the church-fair, and I've had a good talk with the
minister. Those are three nice girls of the banker's, aren't they?
Florence, Francesca, and Beatrice, commonly known as Flick, Fran, and
Trix, they told me. Mr. Hunt, the nephew, is nice, too; we get on like
sliding down-hill. They're all going to come and see me.--Mrs.
Foss,"--her attention had veered,--"do look at that little fellow
playing the piano! Isn't he _great_! But isn't he comical, too!
I've been noticing him all the evening. He fascinates me. I never heard
such splendid playing. The bouncing parts make my feet twitch to dance,
but the sighful, wind-in-the-willow parts make me want to just lean back
and close my eyes. I could listen till the cows come home. I call it a
wonderful gift."

Mrs. Foss looked over at the little Italian, the unpretentious musical
hack whom one sent for when there was to be dancing, and paid--it was
all he asked--so very little. Her eyebrows went up a point as she
smi