ballroom. She bounded down
the stairs and arrived, slightly out of breath, to find the Gutter Pup
and Skippy stiffly erect.

"Allow me to present my friend, Mr. Bedelle!" said the Gutter Pup in the
correct tones of an undertaker.

Miss Connie shook hands vigorously and said, beaming with surprised
delight:

"I think it's just too darling of you to drop in. Every one's out and I
was trying to read a poky old book. We'll have tea and there's some
chocolate cake left. Course I know your sister, Mr. Bedelle. I think
she's just the dandiest girl."

"I hope your father and mother are well," said Skippy gravely.

"What? Oh, yes! They're all right. Let's be cozy and camp down over
here."

"And your sister?" said the Gutter Pup with equal punctiliousness.

"Sis? Oh, she's fine and dandy," said Miss Connie, curling up on the
sofa, after lighting the lamp under the tea kettle.

Skippy and the Gutter Pup after this irreproachable beginning, sat up
stiffly and, retiring into a set silence, stared very hard at their
hostess.

"You'll have a bit of chocolate cake, won't you?" said the young lady,
wondering how to open the conversation.

"Thank you."

"And you, Mr. Bedelle?"

"Thank you."

At this moment the bell rang and the maid announced:

"Mr. Mather and Mr. Crocker callin' on you, Miss Connie."

Miss Brown could not believe her ears. Such a thing had never happened
before, even in her happiest dreams. If her sister could only see her
now! She gave a hurried calculating glance at the chocolate cake and
went joyfully more than halfway to meet the new arrivals. The four
conspirators, after formal greetings, ranged themselves in a semicircle,
stiffly balanced on the edges of their chairs, hands on their knees, and
waited for their hostess to play with the conversation.

"Did you see Maude Adams in her new piece this spring?" said Miss
Connie, who began to fidget with the cups and carefully cut the cake
into five exact divisions.

As this question was addressed to the company in general, the four
visitors maintained a frozen attention.

"I'm just crazy about Maude Adams. I went three times," said Miss
Connie, who found that five teacups choked up the table in the most
disconcerting way. "You like Maude Adams, don't you--er--Mr. Mather?"

"I like Maude Adams."

"And you, Mr. Brooker?"

"I like Maude Adams."

Miss Connie was staring at the teapot desperately, seeking for some new
topic of conversation, whe