Aunt Isabel's table was well patronized. It seemed to Missy that
most of the men present tried to get "served" here. Perhaps it was
because they admired Aunt Isabel. Missy couldn't have blamed them
for that, because none of the other Congregational ladies was half
as pretty. To-night Aunt Isabel had on a billowy pale-blue organdy,
and she looked more like an angel than ever. An ethereally radiant,
laughing, vivacious angel. And whenever she moved near you, you
caught a ghostly whiff of that delicious perfume. (Missy now knows
Aunt Isabel got it from little sachet bags, tucked away with her
clothes, and from an "atomizer" which showered a delicate, fairy-
like spray of fragrance upon her hair.) There was one young man, who
was handsome in a dark, imperious way, who hung about and ate so
much ice-cream that Missy feared lest he should have an "upset" to-
morrow.

Also, there was another persevering patron for whom she surmised,
with modest palpitation, Aunt Isabel might not be the chief
attraction. The joy of being a visiting girl was begun! This
individual was a talkative, self-confident youth named Raleigh
Peters. She loved the name Raleigh--though for the Peters part she
didn't care so much. And albeit, with the dignity which became her
advancing years, she addressed him as "Mr. Peters," in her mind she
preferred to think of him as "Raleigh." Raleigh, she learned (from
himself), was the only son of a widowed mother and, though but
little older than Missy, had already started making his own way by
clerking in Uncle Charlie's store. He clerked in the grocery
department, the prosperity of which, she gathered, was largely due
to his own connection with it. Some day, he admitted, he was going
to own the biggest grocery store in the State. He was thrillingly
independent and ambitious and assured. All that seemed admirable,