re at five, have dinner
somewhere, then do all sorts of stunts. You are going to wear my tan
coat-suit and light blue waist. Yes, you are, too! That's all
foolishness; everybody wears elbow-sleeves. Blue's your color, and I've
got the hat to match. May says she'll fix your hair, and you can wear
her French-heel Oxfords again. They pitch you over? Oh, nonsense! you
just tripped along the other day like a nice little jay-bird. Hurry,
hurry!"

Even Miss Lucinda's week of strenuous living had not prepared her for
what followed. First, there was a short trip on the train, during which
she conscientiously studied a map. Then followed a dinner at a large and
ostentatious hotel. The decorations were more brilliant, the music
louder, and the dresses gayer, than at any place Miss Lucinda had yet
been. She viewed the passing show through her glasses, and experienced a
pleasant thrill of sophistication. This, she assured herself, was
society; henceforth she was in a position to rail at its follies as one
having authority.

In the midst of these complacent reflections she choked on a crumb, and,
after groping with closed eyes for her tumbler, gulped down the
contents. A strange, delicious tingle filled her mouth; she forgot she
was choking, and opened her eyes. To her horror, she found that she had
emptied her glass of champagne.

"Spirituous liquor!" she thought in dismay, as the shade of Miss Joe
Hill rose before her.

Total abstinence was such a firm plank in the platform of the celestial
affinity that, even in the chafing-dish, alcohol had been tabooed. The
utter iniquity of having deliberately swallowed a glass of champagne was
appalling to Miss Lucinda. She sat silent during the rest of the dinner,
eating little, and plucking nervously at the ruffles about her elbows.
The fear of rheumatism in her wrists which had assailed her earlier in
the evening gave way to a deeper and more disturbing discomfort.

When the dinner was over, the party started forth on a hilarious round
of sight-seeing. Miss Lucinda limped after them, vaguely aware that she
was in a giant electric cage filled with swarming humanity, that bands
were playing, drums beating, and that at every turn disagreeable men
with loud voices were imploring her to "step this way."

"Come on!" cried Dick. "We are going on the scenic railway."

But the worm turned. "I--I'm not going," she protested. "I will wait
here. All of you go; I will wait right here."

With a