from her goblet. "We shall have on different dresses, and you'll be
offering us lemonade instead of our offering it to you. Take a good look
at us so as to see how much prettier we are now than we shall be then."

Mr. De Forest obeyed literally, staring tranquilly and critically at each
in turn, his glance returning slowly to the young lady of the house.
"Unless you introduce me to your friends I shall not be able to tell them
so," he replied, in the slow, deliberate voice that seemed always to have
a ring of suppressed sarcasm in it, no matter what he said.

"Then I'll certainly not introduce you," said Bell, composedly, with a
saucy shot at him from her handsome black eyes. "And so I'll be the only
girl to get the compliment. Phebe, more sugar, please."

"I will endeavor to work one up between now and then regardless of cost.
Four o'clock, I believe. What is it to be? A dance?"

"Holy Moses! at Mrs. Upjohn's!"

"Oh, she doesn't go in for that kind of thing? A card-party, then?"

"Great heavens! Mr. De Forest, are you mad? I don't doubt she struggles
with herself over every visiting card that she uses,--and
playing-cards--!"

"Theatricals, then?"

Bell gave a positive howl. "Theatricals! Hear him, girls!"

"We hear well enough. You don't give us a chance to do any thing but