forward to seeing you there."

Then Dad did just the right thing. "What's the use of waiting till
we get to California?" he said. "Why not dine with us to-night!"

There are people, merely conventional people, who could never
appreciate the fine directness and simplicity, of Dad's nature--not
if they lived to be a thousand years old. But Mr. Blakely Porter
understood perfectly; I know he did, for he told me so afterwards.
"It was the greatest compliment I ever had paid me in my life," he
said. "Your father knew nothing about me, absolutely nothing, yet he
invited me to dine with him--and you. It was splendid, splendid!"

The dear boy didn't know, perhaps, that honesty shone in his eyes,
that one could not look at him and deny he was a gentleman. And, of
course, I didn't enlighten him, for it is well for men,
particularly, young men, to feel grateful, and the least bit humble;
it keeps them from being spoiled.

But to return to the dinner invitation: Mr. Porter accepted it
eagerly. "It is more than kind of you," he said. "My mother is away,
and her house is closed. It is my first home-coming in four years,
and I should have been lonely to-night."

And poor Dad, who has been lonely--oh, so lonely!--ever since
Ninette died, shook hands with him, and said: "If my daughter and I
can keep you from feeling lonely, we shall be so. glad. We are
stopping at The Plaza, and we dine at half past seven."

Then Mr. Porter found us a taxi-cab, and away we went.