tman and expressman had
suddenly begun to bring reminders of him, letters, bon-bons, books even,
flowers every day, and every day a different sort. Cally greeted him
wearing out-of-season violets from his own florist. And by telegraph to
the faithful Willie Kerr, the gifted wooer had arranged a little dinner
for his first evening, to give his official courtship a background which
in other days it had sometimes lacked....

"To my mind it's a bore," said he, as they parted. "Please expect to
give me a little time of my own afterwards."

The occasion was no bore to Carlisle. She recognized it as one of the
triumphs of her life. The material dinner could of course be no better
than the New Arlington could make it; but then the New Arlington was a
hotel which supercilious tourists always mentioned with pleased surprise
in their letters home; that is, if they had any homes and ever thought
of writing to them. And Cousin Willie Kerr, having got "off" at
three-thirty with _carte blanche _for the arrangements, that night
proved that the world of Epicurus had lost an artist when he had turned
his talents to commerce. But of course Carlisle's triumph lay not in
glowing candle-shades or masses of red and pink roses, not in delicate
viands or vintages, however costly. She read her brilliance in the eyes
and bearing of Hugo Canning's guests.

They sat down twelve at table. Beside Carlisle's own little coterie,
there were present Mr. and Mrs. Allison Payne, who, before they had
retired to the country to bring up their children, had been conspicuous
in that little old-school set which included Mrs. Berkeley Page:
simple-mannered, agreeable people these were, who were always very
pleasant when you met them, but whom you never really seemed to know any
better. And Mrs. Payne, who was Hugo's first cousin, had kissed Carlisle
when they met in the tiring-room, and hoped very prettily that they
were going to be friends. Still more open was the gratulation of the
somewhat less exclusive. Papa had been detained by business, and J.
Forsythe Avery, having been asked at the last moment to fill his place,
had broken up another dinner-table to be seen at Canning's.
Unquestionably he must have recognized a doughty rival, but Carlisle,
who sat next him, easily saw how high she had shot up in his pink
imagination. As for dear Mats Allen, her late funeral note had quite
vanished in loving rapture, with just that undercurrent of honest envy
so dear t