s afterward the invitations went forth, restricted according
to Cora's plan, and the heart-burnings which were kindled scorched the
club's self-esteem like nothing in its staid career. But while others
merely bewailed the amazing fact of their exclusion, Mrs. Teunis Van
Dam, with characteristic energy, determined to probe the indignity to
its author, and summoned her grandson to an absorbing interview.

"Schuyler Livingston Smith," she inquired, "what is Mrs. Tommy Kidder's
relation to public affairs that she should receive an invitation to the
Beverwyck Club?"

The secretary named an insignificant board of which Mr. Kidder was a
member. His grandmother rapidly instanced a dozen other names, and
repeated her question. In most cases the young man had to confess his
ignorance of their claims.

"So," she commented in the end; "so. And I, whose people have helped
govern this community since there was a colony to govern, am beyond the
pale! But who was Peter Stuyvesant beside Mrs. Tommy Kidder's husband?
Nobody. Who was Abraham de Peyster? who was Gerardus Beekman? who was
Rip Van Dam? And the Schuylers, Livingstons, and Van Rensselaers? All
nobodies. My dear child, what lunatic in the Beverwyck Club suggested
this official classification, which even the Archangel Michael could
not carry out?"

Her grandson, with no friendly recollections, named the judge.

"The silly old man!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Dam. "And who inspired him?"

He cheerfully told her, with the added detail that Mrs. Shelby and the
judge had subsequently gone over the invitation list together. She was
silent for a time, and then dismissed him. Alone with her thoughts,
she elaborated a countermine, whose energy was specially directed
against the Beverwyck Club, though she had no objection to hoisting the
governor's wife in the explosion, albeit she refused to consider her
the real antagonist. The true offender was the exclusive organization
which had prostituted itself to such ignoble influence.

Within an hour of her grandson's departure Mrs. Teunis Van Dam
despatched an invitation of her own. The Beverwyck Club reception was
scheduled to run its formal course from nine to eleven o'clock; Mrs.
Van Dam asked the governor and his lady to dine with her on the same
evening at the hour of eight.

All hinged now on the personal equation of Cora Shelby, whose vagaries
the old lady owned herself quite unable to forecast. Nor in this
respect was