ore vinegary than ever these days
over the household bills. Milly called her "mean," and meanness in her
eyes was the most detestable of human vices.

The famous "tea" marked another advance in Milly's career. It proved
beyond question her gift for the life she had elected. Simple as this
affair was--"from four until seven"--it had to be created out of whole
cloth and involved a marvellous display of energy and tact on Milly's
part. First her father and grandmother had to be accustomed to the idea.
"I ain't much on Sassiety myself," Horatio protested, when the subject
was first broached. (He had an exasperating habit of becoming needlessly
ungrammatical when he wished to "take Milly down.") Mrs. Ridge observed
coldly,--"It would be a great extravagance."

That tiresome word, "Extravagance!" Milly came to loathe it most of all
the words in the language.

"Oh, grandma!" she exclaimed. "Just tea and cakes!"

Her conception grew before the event. Just "tea and cakes" developed
into ices and sherbets and bonbons. Horatio would not permit punch or
any form of alcoholic refreshment. After a convivial youth he had become
rigidly temperance. "Tea and coffee's enough," he said. "You might tell
your friends where they come from--help on the business." (It was one of
Horatio's rude jokes.)

Eleanor Kemp, from her conservatories at Como, supplied the flowers and
plants that did much to disguise the shabbiness of the little house. The
Norton girls collected the silver and china from a radius of eight
blocks. There was a man at the door with white gloves, another at the
curb for carriage company, and a strip of dusty red carpet across the
walk. Milly financed all this extra expense, and that and her new gown
made such a deep hole in her budget that she never again caught up with
her bills, although Horatio was induced to increase her allowance the
next Christmas.

Milly and all her friends worked for weeks in preparation. They wrote
the cards, addressed the envelopes, arranged the furniture, and
distributed the flowers. She felt "dead" the day before with fatigue and
anxiety, and shed tears over one of Grandma Ridge's little speeches.

* * * * *

But it was a triumph! Guests began coming shortly after four,--a few
women from the West side,--and by five-thirty the little Acacia Street
house was jammed to the bursting point, so that the young men who
arrived towards six had to exercise their athle