n again the bell rang and two more callers
were announced. Miss Connie's Cinderella-like enthusiasm gave way to a
feeling of panic. She whispered hoarsely to the maid to bring two more
cups and surreptitiously made a new allotment of the chocolate cake. The
new arrivals inquired solemnly after the health of Miss Connie's mother,
father and sister, and then joined the expectant silence. When the young
lady in turn had discovered that the new callers liked Maude Adams, all
mental processes came to an end and the sound of the clock from the
mantel fell like the blows of a hammer in the room.

When the fourth relay arrived, her complexion took on a bright red tinge
and her agitation was such that she poured the cream into the cake and
broke two cups.

"Did you see her!" said the Gutter Pup ecstatically, after they had
allowed the pent-up hilarity to die out behind the sheltering hedge.
"Skippy, old top, when that last bunch arrived, I thought she certainly
was going down for the count."

"Her eyes were jumping and she was breathing like a horse."

"Well, how do you like the idea?"

"Best Sunday afternoon I ever spent."

"Where away now?"

"I'd like to work it on Tootsie."

"Hold up--my sister needs it more than yours."

The point was debated and as no decision could be reached it was decided
to keep to the regular program. The afternoon was a huge success from
the point of view of the male phalanx. The destruction was enormous. One
or two young ladies held out until the fifth relay but almost collapsed
at the fourth.

"'Course they'll all get together to-morrow and have it in for us," said
the Gutter Pup, chortling. "But never mind, it was worth it. Did you
ever see anything as idiotically solemn as Tacks Brooker? When he
arrives they certainly throw up the sponge."

"Have we time for another?"

"Sure, it's only a quarter of six. We'll put this one over hard, for she
certainly needs taking down."

"Who?"

"Dolly Travers. Don't know her? You will."

Miss Dolly Travers received them with the manner of a Dresden
shepherdess just stepping from the mantelpiece and Skippy took the
petite hand gingerly, as though afraid that anything so delicate and
brittle would break at the touch. The voice of his brother's worldly
wisdom seemed to sound in his ears:

"Pick out something young and grateful. Be a hero."

Miss Travers was undeniably young, if artful, and moreover she was not
of the dark and deceptive class o