whole boiled ham,
fresh from the bakehouse, stood before Mr. Fisher's place, and at the
other end of the table his wife's chair was decked with ribbons, and
confronted with a great loaf of cake, whose uneven icing bore, in red
sugar, the letters "M.C.F.," traced by an inexperienced hand. This was
Allie's contribution to the banquet, and Marjorie had thoughtfully
surrounded it with a circle of thirty-nine tiny candles, which stood
ready for the lighting. Plates of assorted cookies were scattered about
the board; here lay a low dish of olives, whose dusky green contrasted
well with the ruddy globe of an Edam cheese, placed beside them, and
there rose a towering pyramid of golden oranges flanked on either side
by a tempting pile of purple and white grapes.

"It does look pretty, doesn't it, Allie?" asked Marjorie for the fifth
time.

"Yes," said Allie, as she bent forward to break a corner off from one of
the cookies and tuck it into her mouth. "Yes, it is lovely. I do hope
your mother will like it. But now I must hurry, or mamma will know
something is going to happen."

"Go on, then; only be sure you're back here by five," Marjorie warned
her. "And don't let the boys come here this afternoon, for I'm too tired
to even look at them."

At half past five, the guests had assembled and were sitting in the
parlor, looking a little annoyed and uncomfortable as the moments passed
by and their hostess did not appear.

"Come right in," Marjorie had said to them, one after another; "Mamma
will be so glad to see you; she'll be here in a minute."

Last of all came Dr. Brownlee. He had been delayed until the last
possible moment, and now, just as Mr. and Mrs. Fisher turned the corner
far down the street, he rang at the door, to be admitted by Marjorie.
Once inside the parlor, he stopped and looked around the room in search
of his hostess, in order to offer her a prompt apology for his seeming
rudeness in being so late. To his surprise, there was no one present at
all answering to the description of Mrs. Fisher which he had received
from his landlady.

"Hamlet, without the ghost!" he thought to himself, as he paused
irresolutely, just across the threshold, and glanced about in vain for a
familiar face.

For a moment there was an awkward hush. Most of the guests knew the
doctor by sight, but in the explicable absence of their hostess, no one
was sufficiently at ease to rise and bid the stranger welcome to another
person's hou