experienced women who came
to bid their young hostess farewell and make their pretty speeches. One
and all they recognized a woman's triumph. In this first attempt she had
shown what she could do "with nothing, positively nothing--that house!"
Hers was a talent like any other, not to be denied. The woman's talent.
Obviously Horatio could not finance this career on coffee and tea. Some
stronger man, better equipped in fortune, must be found and pressed into
service. Who of all the young and middle-aged men that had come that
afternoon to take the girl's hand and say the proper things would
undertake this responsibility? From the way they hung about Milly, it
might be seen that she would not have to wait long for her "working
partner."

"Next, Milly's engagement!" Vivie Norton suggested daringly.

"And then!" Sally shouted, waving her arms in abandon at the vision she
conjured.

"Did you ever see so many men?... And they never go to afternoon things
if they can help it...."

Yes, it was an indubitable triumph! Even Horatio and Grandma Ridge
admitted it, as they sat down in the disorder of the cluttered
dining-room with the drooping flowers to munch sandwiches and drink cold
chocolate for supper. They were plainly excited and somewhat awed by the
vistas of the new social horizon that was opening through Milly's little
party.

* * * * *

Milly was roused the next morning from a deep sleep to answer a knock at
her door.

"What is it?" she said peevishly. "I think you might let me sleep
to-day."

"Your father thought you would want to see the papers," her grandmother
said, holding out an armful of Sunday literature. "Shall I bring you up
a cup of tea?"

"Thanks, Granny." And Milly sank back into her pillows, while her hand
skilfully extracted the sheet that contained "Madame Alpha's" social
column. Ah, here it was!

"One of the most charming affairs of the post-lenten season.... A quiet
five o'clock.... Many of our notable fashionables, etc.... Radiant young
hostess, etc. The charm of the young hostess, etc."

Milly's thick braids circled her soft neck and fell on the large sheet
while she devoured the words, as a young actress might swallow her first
notices, or a young author scan his first reviews. The subtle
intoxication of a successful first appearance quickened her pulses.
"Quite the smartest bunch of snobs in the village," wrote "Suzette" in
the _Mirror_, with a too obvio