"I don't know," said Mavering. "I really believe it was rather a nice
one."

"Oh, we were both enraptured," cried Mrs. Pasmer.

Alice added a quiet "Yes, indeed," and her mother went on--

"And we thought the Beck Hall spread was the crowning glory of the whole
affair. We owe ever so much to your kindness."

"Oh, not at all," said Mavering.

"But we were talking afterward, Alice and I, about the sudden
transformation of all that disheveled crew around the Tree into the
imposing swells--may I say howling swells?--"

"Yes, do say 'howling,' Mrs. Pasmer!" implored the young man.

"--whom we met afterward at the spread," she concluded. "How did you
manage it all? Mr. Irving in the 'Lyons Mail' was nothing to it. We
thought we had walked directly over from the Tree; and there you were,
all ready to receive us, in immaculate evening dress."

"It was pretty quick work," modestly admitted the young man. "Could you
recognise any one in that hurly-burly round the Tree?"

"We didn't till you rose, like a statue of Victory, and began grabbing
for the spoils from the heads and shoulders of your friends. Who was your
pedestal?"