e had grave doubts that the interest she had evinced
in him sprang from any other incentive than a desire to have
communication with various types of humanity, his hesitation as to
entering Mr. Flint's house was natural enough.

It was of a piece with Mr. Crewe's good fortune of getting what he wanted
that the day of the garden-party was the best that September could do in
that country, which is to say that it was very beautiful. A pregnant
stillness enwrapped the hills, a haze shot with gold dust, like the
filmiest of veils, softened the distant purple and the blue-black shadows
under the pines. Austen awoke from his dream in this enchanted borderland
to find himself in a long line of wagons filled with people in their
Sunday clothes,--the men in black, and the young women in white, with gay
streamers, wending their way through the rear-entrance drive of
Wedderburn, where one of Mr. Crewe's sprucest employees was taking up the
invitation cards like tickets,--a precaution to prevent the rowdy element
from Ripton coming and eating up the refreshments. Austen obediently tied
Pepper in a field, as he was directed, and made his way by a path through
the woods towards the house, where the Ripton Band could be heard playing
the second air in the programme, "Don't you wish you'd Waited?"

For a really able account of that memorable entertainment see the Ripton
Record of that week, for we cannot hope to vie with Mr. Pardriff when his
heart is really in his work. How describe the noble figure of Mr. Crewe
as it burst upon Austen when he rounded the corner of the house? Clad in
a rough-and-ready manner, with a Gladstone collar to indicate the newly
acquired statesmanship, and fairly radiating geniality, Mr. Crewe stood
at the foot of the steps while the guests made the circuit of the
driveway; and they carefully avoided, in obedience to a warning sign, the
grass circle in the centre. As man and wife confronted him, Mr. Crewe
greeted them in hospitable but stentorian tones that rose above the
strains of "Don't you wish you'd Waited?" It was Mr. Ball who introduced
his townspeople to the great man who was to represent them.

"How are you?" said Mr. Crewe, with his eyes on the geraniums. "Mr. and
Mrs. Perley Wright, eh? Make yourselves at home. Everything's free
--you'll find the refreshments on the back porch--just have an eye to the
signs posted round, that's all." And Mr. and Mrs. Perley Wright,
overwhelmed by such a welcome, wo