owy mustache had rather a rakish effect.

Although the transformation in each case was complete, yet quite
enough of the features, expression, or bearing was apparent through the
disguise to make the members of the party entirely recognizable to each
other, though less intimate acquaintances would perhaps have been at
first rather puzzled. At Henry's suggestion they had been photographed
in their costumes, in order to compare the ideal with the actual when
they should be really old.

"It is n't much trouble, and the old folks will enjoy it some day. We
ought to consider them a little," Henry had said, meaning by "the old
folks" their future selves.

It had been agreed that, in proper deference to the probabilities, one,
at least, of the girls ought to illustrate the fat old lady. But they
found it impossible to agree which should sacrifice herself, for no
one of the three could, in her histrionic enthusiasm, quite forget her
personal appearance. Nellie flatly refused to be made up fat, and Jessie
as flatly, while both the girls had too much reverence for the sweet
dignity of Mary Fellows's beauty to consent to her taking the part, and
so the idea was given up.

It had been a happy thought of Mary's to get her two younger sisters,
girls of eleven and sixteen, to be present, to enhance the venerable
appearance of the party by the contrast of their bloom and freshness.

"Are these your little granddaughters?" inquired Henry, benevolently
inspecting them over the tops of his spectacles as he patted the elder
of the two on the head, a liberty she would by no means have allowed
him in his proper character, but which she now seemed puzzled whether to
resent or not.

"Yes," replied Mary, with an indulgent smile. "They wanted to see what
an old folks' party was like, though I told them they wouldn't enjoy it
much. I remember I thought old people rather dull when I was their age."

Henry made a little conversation with the girls, asking them the list
of fatuous questions by which adults seem fated to illustrate the gulf
between them and childhood in the effort to bridge it.

"Annie, dear, just put that ottoman at Mrs. Hyde's feet," said Mary to
one of the little girls. "I 'm so glad you felt able to come out this
evening, Mrs. Hyde! I understood you had not enjoyed good health this
summer."

"I have scarcely been out of my room since spring, until recently,"
replied Jessie. "Thank you, my dear" (to the little girl); "bu