amuse her often.

Miss Ford was the ideal member of committee, and a committee, of course,
exists for the purpose of damping enthusiasms.

The Stranger's manners were somehow hectic. Directly she heard that
laughter the tears came into her eyes. "Didn't you like what I was
saying?" she asked. Tears climbed down her cheekbones.

"Oh!" said Miss Ford. "You seem to be--if not drunk--suffering from some
form of hysteria."

"Do you think youth is a form of hysteria?" asked the Stranger. "Or
hunger? Or magic? Or--"

"Oh, don't recite any more lists, for the Dear Sake!" implored Miss
Ford, who had caught this rather pretty expression where she caught her
laugh and most of her thoughts--from contemporary fiction. She had a lot
of friends in the writing trade. She knew artists too, and an actress,
and a lot of people who talked. She very nearly did something clever
herself. She continued: "I wish you could see yourself, trying to be
uplifting between the munches of a stolen bun. You'd laugh too. But
perhaps you never laugh," she added, straightening her lips.

"How d'you mean--laugh?" asked the Stranger. "I didn't know that noise
was called laughing. I thought you were just saying 'Ha--ha.'"

At this moment the Mayor came in. As I told you, he was a grocer, and
the Chairman of the committee. He was a bad Chairman, but a good grocer.
Grocers generally wear white in the execution of their duty, and this