least it was quite on the cards," smiling in cheerful enjoyment of the
possibility. Entertainments were going on all the while in the
neighborhood, and he had ample opportunities of advertising the fact, all
of which he improved, while a puzzled audience knew not what to make of so
novel a situation, and were sorely put to it for suitable replies as they
stared at an Adonis in Poole-cut clothes who sat and looked alternately at
them and his patent-leather court pumps and gay silk socks while he
affably denounced his father's nephew and "hoped the blackguard was goin'
to New Orleans and would get the yellow fever there, which was beginnin'
to be had over from the Havana."

This last speech was made at a dinner-party which Mr. Ketchum's partner
Mr. Richardson had felt called upon to give in honor of the English guests,
and was almost the only amusing feature of the evening to Job. The
Richardsons' house was one of those in which everything is provided on
such occasions except amusement. When their invitation came, Job said to
his wife, "I wish we could get out of going; but we can't. I don't know
what is the matter with that house. It is one of the handsomest in the
city, elegantly furnished; they always have a crowd of people at their
entertainments, some of them delightful people to meet anywhere else, but
somehow there seems a kind of pall draped above the front door that drops
down behind you when you enter and never lifts till you leave. Mrs.
Richardson puts on all her war-paint and feathers and goes around all the
evening anxiously trying to make the thing go off, and it gets worse and
worse every moment, so dull and stupid that you can hardly keep awake, and
not quite quiet enough for a good nap. Richardson buys everything that is
to be had, and then sits around and looks as though he had a note to meet
in bank and no money to do it with. Altogether, it is about as lively as a
water-tank on the Pacific Railroad after the train has gone. But it won't
do to hurt their feelings: we have got to go."