eridan. SHE'S like those
people you wondered about at the theater, the last time we went--dressed
in ball-gowns; bound to show their clothes and jewels SOMEwhere! She
flatters the father, and so did I, for that matter--but not that way. I
treated him outrageously!"

"Mary!"

"That's what flattered him. After dinner he made the whole regiment of
us follow him all over the house, while he lectured like a guide on the
Palatine. He gave dimensions and costs, and the whole b'ilin' of 'em
listened as if they thought he intended to make them a present of the
house. What he was proudest of was the plumbing and that Bay of Naples
panorama in the hall. He made us look at all the plumbing--bath-rooms
and everywhere else--and then he made us look at the Bay of Naples. He
said it was a hundred and eleven feet long, but I think it's more. And
he led us all into the ready-made library to see a poem Edith had taken
a prize with at school. They'd had it printed in gold letters and framed
in mother-of-pearl. But the poem itself was rather simple and wistful
and nice--he read it to us, though Edith tried to stop him. She was
modest about it, and said she'd never written anything else. And then,
after a while, Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan asked me to come across the street
to her house with them--her husband and Edith and Mr. Lamhorn and Jim
Sheridan--"

Mrs. Vertrees was shocked. "'Jim'!" she exclaimed. "Mary, PLEASE--"

"Of course," said Mary. "I'll make it as easy for you as I can,
mamma. Mr. James Sheridan, Junior. We went over there, and Mrs. Roscoe
explained that 'the men were all dying for a drink,' though I noticed
that Mr. Lamhorn was the only one near death's door on that account.
Edith and Mrs. Roscoe said they knew I'd been bored at the dinner. They
were objectionably apologetic about it, and they seemed to think NOW we
were going to have a 'good time' to make up for it. But I hadn't been
bored at the dinner, I'd been amused; and the 'good time' at Mrs.
Roscoe's was horribly, horribly stupid."

"But, Mary," her mother began, "is--is--" And she seemed unable to
complete the question.

"Never mind, mamma. I'll say it. Is Mr. James Sheridan, Junior, stupid?
I'm sure he's not at all stupid about business. Otherwise--Oh, what
right have I to be calling people 'stupid' because they're not exactly
my kind? On the big dinner-table they had enormous icing models of the
Sheridan Building--"

"Oh, no!" Mrs. Vertrees cried. "Surely not!"