uppose;" rallying from her embarrassment, "my mind
was so occupied with our feast, I was incapable of thinking of anything
else; so please consider this an apology for the condition in which you
find us, to yourself and your friend, whom, you will pardon me for
reminding you, you have _not_ introduced," and Cyn looking laughingly at
the stranger, who also laughed.

"Oh! I--I beg pardon, I am sure, for--for all my stupidities. I--I am
always doing something wrong, but I--I am used to it, you know," said
the disconcerted Quimby; then wiping the perspiration from his forehead,
he added clumsily, "my friend, Mr. Stanwood--Cyn--and Miss--Miss
Rogers."

Mr. Stanwood gayly shook hands with Cyn, whom Quimby had nervously
forgotten to honor with a Miss, and then advanced to Nattie, who had not
stirred from her position as screen for the gas stove, saying,

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Rogers."

And as Nattie accepted his proffered hand, in an embarrassed way, not
yet being able to rise to the situation, and observed the peculiarly
roguish expression with which he regarded her, she suddenly became aware
that she had seen him on some previous occasion, but where she was
utterly at loss to remember.

Cyn, too, was struck by something a little odd in his manner to Nattie,
and glanced at him curiously, as she said in her most cordial tones,

"And now, gentlemen, as we have exchanged apologies all around, please
be seated."

Quimby immediately bounced up from the music-stool, on which, in his
agitation, he had involuntarily dropped.

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed hastily. "We--we did did not come to dinner, you
know!"

Cyn smiled at Quimby's anxiety to disclaim intentions no one thought of
attributing to him, and turning to Mr. Stanwood, asked, thereby greatly
scandalizing Nattie,

"But supposing you were invited to stay and share our banquet, would
you?"

"Were I sure the invitation was heartfelt, I should be sorely tempted;
wouldn't you, Quimby?" Mr. Stanwood replied, easily.

Poor Quimby twirled his thumbs confusedly, and murmured something about
leaving the ladies to enjoy their "feast" alone.

"We have eatables enough for six, as Nat was just now intimating," went
on Cyn, who certainly had a touch of true Bohemianism in her
composition, as well as Jo Norton. "But our dishes, 'ay, there's the
rub,'" and she laughingly held up the coffee-urn, while the less
adaptable Nattie thought apprehensively of the