e was an envious silence.

"Strawberry ice cream. Three helpings to a fellow; and I'll have more,
'cause I wouldn't let you throw cucumbers at Louise."

His chum's face grew wistful.

"S'long," said John exuberantly. He had not only converted the scoffer,
but he now found that the gang's plans for the evening no longer held a
charm for him. What a peach of a time he would have at the Martins'!

Mrs. Fletcher greeted him with a suppressed smile as he came in.

"Mrs. Riley telephoned," she began reprovingly.

"Old sorehead!" he exclaimed. "Didn't hurt 'em any."

The maternal smile broadened. There was little sympathy between that
quarrelsome lady and the other mothers of the street, anyway. "But you
shouldn't torment little children like that, son. It isn't manly."

John murmured a few sheepish words under his breath, and asked tactfully
if supper were ready.

"Not quite. Why?"

"Have you forgotten the party?"

She shook her head. "You'll find your blue serge suit all cleaned and
waiting for you on your bed. But John, dear, do be a little more careful
next time you eat candy. I had a terrible time with those spots."

After supper, he ran up to his room. There lay the suit, true evidence
of his mother's thoughtful kindness. As he drew off his school
knickerbockers, he noticed that his stockings had sagged, small-boy
fashion, and formed a little roll of cloth just above his shoe tops. He
pulled them up. How on earth had all that mud gotten there? In a moment
he was at the head of the stairs, shouting, "Mother, Mother,
Moth-a-a-a-r! Where are some clean stockings?" and went off to her room
in search of them. His boots, too, were dusty and scratched; how long
was it since he had blackened them?

A five-minute session with the shoe-shining outfit, heretofore despised
as a useless nuisance, made them glisten as did the kitchen stove after
that Saturday polishing task had been completed. Before him stood the
washstand with its cold marble basin, the soap trays, washrags,
toothbrushes, and other instruments of torture. He turned on the water
and considered a moment as to just how far he should extend the
waterline. Still, he was going to a party, her party, and his appearance
must be beyond reproach. So he soaped his face vigorously and ran his
wet hands around to the back of his neck. Then he surveyed as much of
the result of his labors as he could see with a new satisfaction.

He slipped into his little wash blo