it before I tell you the third reason and perhaps you may divine it
for yourselves, and will not that be fun!

"Great news, Rollo," cried his mother, brightly but not so loudly as
to be unladylike, "great news! Your Uncle George is to be married and
to whom do you think?"

Rollo thought of several of the gay ladies whom he had met during his
evening parties with Uncle George, but, having lived in the city now
for nearly a half-year, he had learned that it is not best to express
one's thoughts too frankly at all times, and therefore answered, "To
whom, Mother? I am sure I cannot guess."

"Why, to Anabelle's mother," was the reply. "Her first husband was a
very wicked man, and Anabelle's mother was forced to leave him. She
has just returned from visiting her folks in Reno, Nevada. The wedding
is to be in her apartment on Park Avenue, and your Uncle writes to say
that he hopes that you and Anabelle will be page and flower-girl on
that occasion. Anabelle is to be allowed to come home from school for
the great event."

At these glad tidings, Rollo's depression vanished in a trice. All
thought of dying was swept away by the realization that he was soon to
see Anabelle again! And now perhaps you have some idea of what the
third reason for his low spirits had been.

From that time on, events moved at a rapid pace, each more exciting
than the last. First came the Bachelor Dinner, one of the strangest
meals which Rollo had ever attended. Rollo's father did not approve of
Uncle George's marriage, though when he learned that Anabelle's mother
was very wealthy he said, "Well, I shall voice no objection. George
has made his bed; let him lie in it."

Rollo thought this a coarse remark, but kept silent as his father
continued, "As for this Bachelor Dinner, I do not approve of Rollo's
attendance."

"But there are to be handsome gifts," said Rollo's mother. "George
informs me that everyone at the table is to receive a jewelled
scarf pin, a splendid cravat, and a pair of gloves."

"I do not wish to offend George," said Rollo's father. "The boy may as
well go, but let him surely be home by nine o'clock. Do you remember
what my glove size is, Mother?"

[Illustration: "Gentlemen, with your kind permission I will read a
poem"]

And so it was arranged.

It was, as I say, the strangest dinner Rollo had ever attended. It was
served in a private room of the handsome edifice owned by Mr. Ritz,
and the menu or bill-of-fare was most e