m. He's ALWAYS been so
terribly close with money----"

"I guess he couldn't help that," Walter observed. "We're liable to go to
the poorhouse the way it is. Well, what's the matter our walkin' to this
rotten party?"

"In the rain, Walter?"

"Well, it's only a drizzle and we can take a streetcar to within a block
of the house."

Again his mother shook her head. "It wouldn't do."

"Well, darn the luck, all right!" he consented, explosively. "I'll get
her something to ride in. It means seventy-five cents."

"Why, Walter!" Mrs. Adams cried, much pleased. "Do you know how to get a
cab for that little? How splendid!"

"Tain't a cab," Walter informed her crossly. "It's a tin Lizzie, but you
don't haf' to tell her what it is till I get her into it, do you?"

Mrs. Adams agreed that she didn't.

CHAPTER VI

Alice was busy with herself for two hours after dinner; but a little
before nine o'clock she stood in front of her long mirror, completed,
bright-eyed and solemn. Her hair, exquisitely arranged, gave all she
asked of it; what artificialities in colour she had used upon her face
were only bits of emphasis that made her prettiness the more distinct;
and the dress, not rumpled by her mother's careful hours of work, was a
white cloud of loveliness. Finally there were two triumphant bouquets
of violets, each with the stems wrapped in tin-foil shrouded by a bow of
purple chiffon; and one bouquet she wore at her waist and the other she
carried in her hand.

Miss Perry, called in by a rapturous mother for the free treat of a look
at this radiance, insisted that Alice was a vision. "Purely and simply
a vision!" she said, meaning that no other definition whatever would
satisfy her. "I never saw anybody look a vision if she don't look one
to-night," the admiring nurse declared. "Her papa'll think the same I do
about it. You see if he doesn't say she's purely and simply a vision."

Adams did not fulfil the prediction quite literally when Alice paid a
brief visit to his room to "show" him and bid him good-night; but he
chuckled feebly. "Well, well, well!" he said.

"You look mighty fine--MIGHTY fine!" And he waggled a bony finger at her
two bouquets. "Why, Alice, who's your beau?"

"Never you mind!" she laughed, archly brushing his nose with the violets
in her hand. "He treats me pretty well, doesn't he?"

"Must like to throw his money around! These violets smell mighty sweet,
and they ought to, if they're going to a