moment the door-bell saved the situation. Harris, stumbling with
agitation, had retreated to his pantry, so Mrs. Maitland motioned
to Blair. "Run and open the door for your friends," she said,
kindly.

Blair did not "run," but he went; and if he could have killed
those first-comers with a glance, he would have done so. As for
Mrs. Maitland, still glowing with this new experience of taking
part in her son's pleasure, she tramped into the front room to
say how do you do and shake hands with two very shy young men,
who were plainly awed by her presence. As the others came in, it
was she who received them, standing on the hearth-rug, her back
to the empty fireplace which Blair had filled with roses, all
ready to welcome the timid youngsters, who in reply to her loud
greetings stammered the commonplaces of the occasion.

"How are you, Elizabeth? What! a long dress? Well, well, you
_are_ getting to be a big girl! How are you, David? And so
you have a swallowtail, too? Glad to see you, Mrs. Richie. Who's
this? Harry Knight? Well, Harry, you are quite a big boy. I knew
your stepmother when she was Molly Wharton, and not half your
age."

Harry, who had a sense of humor, was able to laugh, but David was
red with wrath, and Elizabeth tossed her head. As for Blair, he
grew paler and paler.

Yet the dreadful dinner went off fairly smoothly. Mrs. Maitland
sat down before anybody else. "Come, good people, come!" she
said, and began her rapid "Bless, O Lord," while the rest of the