had piled up in slick coils under the
bonnet, and a third was runnin' a tape over her skillful. If it had been
anybody but Mrs. Sallie Leavitt, I'd have hated to take chances on
havin' to write the check when it was all over.

"Well, is she coming?" asks Sadie that night.

"Search me," says I. "I wouldn't bet a nickel either way."

That was Wednesday. All day Thursday I was expectin' to be called in
again, or hear that Sallie had made a break back for Vermont. But not a
word. Nor on Friday, either. So at seven o'clock that night, as we
collected in the Twombley-Cranes' drawin' room, there was some suspense;
for at least half of us were wise to the situation. At seven-fifteen,
though, they arrives.

And, say, I wish you could have seen Mrs. Sallie Leavitt of Clarks
Mills! I don't know what it cost to work the miracle, but, believe me,
it was worth twice the money! Leavitt was dead right. All she needed was
the regalia. And she'd got it too,--sort of a black lacy creation, with
jet spangles all over it, and long, sweepin' folds from the waist down,
and with all that hair of hers done up flossy and topped with a fancy
rhinestone headdress, she looked tall and classy. And stunnin'? Say, she
had a neck and shoulders that made that Mrs. K. Taylor French party
look like a museum exhibit!

Then there was Mr. Leavitt, all dolled up as correct as any cotillion
leader, balancin' his silk tile graceful on one wrist, and strokin' his
close-cropped mustache with his white glove, just as Mrs. Humphry Ward
describes on page 147.

"Well!" gasps Sadie. "I thought you said they were a pair of countrified
freaks!"

"You should have seen 'em when they landed with the pies," says I.

And, if you'll believe me, Mr. Leavitt not only had on the costume, but
he had the lines too. Sounded a little booky in spots maybe; but he was
right there with the whole bag of chatty tricks,--the polite salute for
the hostess, a neat little epigram when it come his turn to fill in the
talk, a flash or so of repartee, and an anecdote that got a good hand
all round the table. You see, he was sort of doublin' in brass, as it
were; conversin' for two, you know. For Sallie was playin' it safe,
watchin' how the others negotiated the asparagus, passin' up all the
dishes she couldn't dope out, and sayin' mighty little. Mostly she's
watchin' Mr. Leavitt, her eyes growin' brighter and rounder as the meal
progresses, and at last fairly beamin' across the table