rectory, and the plain old house blossomed with the
debutante's bouquets and baskets of flowers.

For weeks before the house had been getting ready. The rector,
looking about for his accustomed chair, had been told it was at the
upholsterer's, or had found his beloved and ragged old books relegated
to dark corners of the bookcases. There were always stepladders on the
landings, and paper-hangers waiting until a man got out of bed in the
morning. And once he put his ecclesiastical heel in a pail of varnish,
and slid down an entire staircase, to the great imperilment of his
kindly old soul.

But he had consented without demur to the coming-out party, and he had
taken, during all the morning of the great day, a most mundane interest
in the boxes of flowers that came in every few minutes. He stood inside
a window, under pretense of having no place to sit down, and called out
regularly,

"Six more coming, mother! And a boy with three ringing across the
street. I think he's made a mistake. Yes, he has. He's coming over!"

When all the stands and tables were overflowing, the bouquets were hung
to the curtains in the windows. And Delight, taking a last survey, from
the doorway, expressed her satisfaction.

"It's heavenly," she said. "Imagine all those flowers for me. It
looks"--she squinted up her eyes critically--"it looks precisely like a
highly successful funeral."

But a part of her satisfaction was pure pose, for the benefit of
that kindly pair who loved her so. Alone in her room, dressed to go
down-stairs, Delight drew a long breath and picked up her flowers which
Clayton Spencer had sent. It had been his kindly custom for years to
send to each little debutante, as she made her bow, a great armful of
white lilacs and trailing tiny white rosebuds.

"Fifty dollars, probably," Delight reflected. "And the Belgians needing
flannels. It's dreadful."

Her resentment against Graham was dying. After all, he was only a
child in Toots Hayden's hands. And she made one of those curious
"He-loves-me-he-loves-me-not" arrangements in her own mind. If Graham
came that afternoon, she would take it as a sign that there was still
some good in him, and she would try to save him from himself. She had
been rather nasty to him. If he did not come--

A great many came, mostly women, with a sprinkling of men. The rector,
who loved people, was in his element. He was proud of Delight, proud
of his home; he had never ceased being proud of