Well, he ought to; it'll keep him young.

CLARA. It will be all right, anyway, Julia! _You_ can give it away to
some one next Christmas.

MISS SILLERTON. What's in Mr. Trotter's?

BLANCHE. Oh, that present has almost been my death! Men are so hard to
find things for! I had put in a gold pencil for his key chain, but
to-night while we were eating our oysters, I saw him show a beauty that
his mother had given him this morning! So I whispered to Jordan between
the soup and fish to change Mr. Ryder's name to Mr. Trotter's stocking,
and put Mr. Trotter's name on the one that had a cigarette case in it. I
sneaked a message down to Dick on my dinner card--was it all right?--and
he sent back word during the game that Trotter only smoked cigars; so
before the ices were passed I shuffled Mr. Trotter's and Mr. Mason's
names,--I'd given Mason the cigar case,--and just as Jordan signalled to
me the transfer had been successfully effected, I heard Trotter casually
observe he'd been obliged to give up smoking entirely--_doctor's
orders_!

[_They laugh punctiliously, rather bored by_ BLANCHE'S _long account._

MRS. HUNTER. Isn't the tree stunning?

CLARA. [_Getting down from her chair._] It makes the table look like one
of Mr. Trotter's "informal little dinners."

MISS GODESBY. They say he has one of those men who arrange shop windows
decorate his dinner table for him!

BLANCHE. The only time I ever dined with him I was really ashamed to go
home with my dinner favor--it was so gorgeous! And there were such big
bunches of violets in the finger bowls there wasn't room for your little
finger.

MISS GODESBY. You never saw such a lot of decoration! The game have
ribbon garters on their legs, and even the raw oysters wear corsage
bouquets! [_To_ MRS. HUNTER.] I hope you don't mind what we're saying,
Mrs. Hunter?

MRS. HUNTER. [_Offended._] I must say I do mind very much.--[_A
pause._]--because--[_A second pause._]--well, I am going to marry Mr.
Trotter--[_All, not believing her, laugh merrily._] You are all very
rude!

MISS GODESBY. Not on the level! Not _Trotter_!

MISS SILLERTON. Not _really_!

BLANCHE. No, no, of course not!

[_She rings bell._

MRS. HUNTER. But I _am_! And I thought here at my daughter's table,
among my own friends (I was allowed to name the guests to-night), I
could count on good wishes and congratulations.

[_There is a dead silence._

[_The musicians, a band of Neapolitan players, enter and take