shionable
party that I have forgotten when they do close."

Some of the boys who attended Miss Wainwright's party engaged cabs, but
Fred would have thought this a foolish expenditure. It was a dry crisp
day, with no snow on the ground, and he felt that it would do him no
harm to walk. He did not expect to meet any one he knew, but on turning
into Madison Avenue, he nearly ran into Raymond Ferguson.

Raymond did not at first recognize him. When he did, he surveyed him in
his party dress in unconcealed amazement.

"Where did you get that rig?" he inquired, with more abruptness than
ceremony.

Fred was glad to meet Raymond, and enjoyed his surprise.

"I bought it," he answered briefly.

"But why did you buy it? I don't see where you found the money. You'd
better have saved it for food and rent."

"I'll think over your advice, Cousin Raymond," said Fred with a twinkle
of fun in his eyes.

"Were you going to call at our house?" asked Raymond.

"Not this evening."

"I don't care to have you call me Cousin Raymond."

"I won't, then. I am just as much ashamed of the relationship as you
are."

"If that's a joke it's a very poor one," said Raymond, provoked.

"It's no joke, I assure you."

Fred seemed so cool and composed that his cousin was nonplussed. He
started as if to go on, but curiosity got the better of him.

"You haven't told me where you were going in that absurd dress," he
said.

"I don't see anything absurd in it. I am going to a party."

"To a party? what party?"

"Miss Rose Wainwright's."

"What, the daughter of Mr. Wainwright, the broker?" asked Raymond,
incredulously.

"Yes."

Now it happened that Raymond had been particularly anxious to get an
invitation to this party. Some of his friends at the Columbia Grammar
School were going and he had intrigued, but unsuccessfully, to get a
card of invitation. The idea that his cousin--an obscure train boy--had
succeeded where he had failed seemed absurd and preposterous. It
intensified his disappointment, and made him foolishly jealous of Fred.

"There must be some mistake about this," he said harshly. "You only
imagine that you are invited."

"I am not quite a fool, Cousin Raymond--excuse me, Mr. Ferguson. What
do you say to this?"

He drew from his pocket a note of invitation requesting the favor of
Mr. Fred Fenton's company at Miss Rose Wainwright's New Year's party.

"How did she happen to send you this card?" asked Raymond, his surpri