"Why, he talked it over with Miss Kilburn last night, and he objected
to an entertainment which wouldn't be open to all--to the shop hands and
everybody." Mrs. Munger explained the point fully. She repeated some things
that Annie had said in ridicule of Mr. Peck's position regarding it. "If
you _do_ think that part would be bad or impolitic," Mrs. Munger
concluded, "we could drop the invited supper and the dance, and simply have
the theatricals."

She bent upon Mr. Gerrish a face of candid deference that filled him with
self-importance almost to bursting.

"No!" he said, shaking his head, and "No!" closing his lips abruptly, and
opening them again to emit a final "No!" with an explosive force which
alone seemed to save him. "Not at all, Mrs. Munger; not on any account! I
am surprised at Mr. Peck, or rather I am _not_ surprised. He is not a
practical man--not a man of the world; and I should have much preferred to
hear that he objected to the dancing and the play; I could have understood
that; I could have gone with him in that to a certain extent, though I can
see no harm in such things when properly conducted. I have a great respect
for Mr. Peck; I was largely instrumental in getting him here; but he is
altogether wrong in this matter. We are not obliged to go out into the
highways and the hedges until the bidden guests have--er--declined."

"Exactly," said Mrs. Munger. "I never thought of that."

Mrs. Gerrish shifted her baby to another knee, and followed her husband
with her eyes, as he dismounted from his stool and began to pace the room.

"I came into this town a poor boy, without a penny in my pocket, and I
have made my own way, every inch of it, unaided and alone. I am a thorough