," Symes replied impatiently, "we can't invite all the people
who have been nice to us. Won't you ever understand that society must
draw the line somewhere?"

Mrs. Symes pondered this new thought a long time.

When the invitations were out and the news of the dinner spread it
became the chief topic of conversation. The fact that the dinner was at
seven instead of twelve o'clock, noon, occasioned much hilarity among
the uninvited while the invited guests were more than delighted at the
fashionable hour. A tinge of acerbity was noticeable in the comments of
those who were unaccustomed to the sensation of being excluded, among
them Mrs. Abe Tutts, whose quick recognition of slights led one to
believe she had received a great many of them. Mrs. Tutts, who was
personally distasteful to Mr. Symes, went so far as to inquire
belligerently of Mrs. Symes why she had not been invited.

"I don't know," stammered Mrs. Symes who was still truthful rather than
tactful, "but I'll ask Phidias."

"You find out and lemme know," said Mrs. Tutts menacingly. "They can't
nobody in this town hand _me_ nothin'!"

Since Mrs. Tutts's sensitiveness appeared always to show itself in a
desire to do the offender bodily harm, Andy P. Symes took care not to
commit himself.

Until the very last Essie Tisdale could not believe that she had been
intentionally omitted. She was among the first thought of when any
gathering was planned and in her naive way was as sure of her popularity
as Symes himself, so she had pressed the wrinkles from her simple gown
and cleaned once more the white slippers which were among her dearest
treasures.

As a matter of course Mrs. Terriberry had engaged other help for the
occasion and all the afternoon of the day set Essie Tisdale waited for
the tardy invitation which she told herself was an oversight. She could
not believe that Augusta Kunkel, who was indebted to her for more good
times than she ever had had in her uneventful life, could find it in her
heart to slight her.

But the afternoon waned and no belated invitation came, so when the hour
had arrived for her to go below she hung her cheap little frock upon
its nail and replaced the cherished slippers in their box, hurt and
heavy hearted and still unaware that the day when she had tripped in
them as the acknowledged belle of Crowheart was done and the old regime
of charity and democratic, unpretentious hospitality was gone never to
return.

Her shapely head