“There was still one thing I couldn’t get. I couldn’t get one set of people to recognize me when they met me in the street, to ask me to their houses, to come to my house. Why? I don’t know. Maybe they don’t know. Maybe they didn’t want to know. There’s a lot of things society folks don’t seem to want to know. And one of those things was me. I couldn’t win ’em over. I built this house. Cost $200,000 more’n any other house in town. If you doubt it, step down to the Building Commissioner’s and look over the specifications. Built it on the most fash’nable avenue, too. But still society wouldn’t say: ‘Pleased to know you!’ ‘Maybe it’s my lack of blue blood,’ thinks I. ‘Though my pile’s been made a good deal cleaner than many an aristocrat’s.’ I married a lady of the first families here”—a ripple of unintelligible surprise broke in on his ears, but quickly died. “What was the result? She was asked out and I wasn’t. But I kept on fighting. And at last I’m in the winning stride.

“I’m not a college man myself. All my education’s hand-made and since I was thirty. But I was bound my son should be one. And he is. He’s in society, too. The best New York affords, I’m told. My girl’s had advantages, too, and you see the result. Do unto others what you can’t do for yourself. That’s worth remembering sometimes. And now at last I get my comeback for all my outlay.

“To-night I guess I cover the final lap of the race. For the bluest blood of Granite is—are—is among my guests here, and I’m meeting ’em on equal terms. All this talk, maybe, isn’t what the etiquette books call ‘good form.’ But if you knew how many years I’ve worked for what I’ve won to-night, you’d sympathize with me for wanting to crow just a little.”

“Heavens!” murmured Mrs. Greer, “does the creature think anyone’s going to regard this as his ‘début’? And the awful part of it is, the whole speech will be in every paper to-morrow. Oh, if only the reporters will get our names wrong!”

“No fear of that,” answered Greer. “The typewritten list is probably being put in print even now. But what ails Conover?”

“So,” resumed Caleb, beaming about him, “I wanted the chance to let you all know me as I really am. Not what my enemies say about me. Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be your friend and entertain you often? None in the least, you’ll all say. It seems a little thing, perhaps, to you who’ve been in the game always. But it’s meant a lot to me!”

He paused. There seemed nothing more to say, yet he longed to end with a climax. A glorious, dazzling inspiration came, and he hurried on:

“And now, in honor of this little meeting between friends, let me tell you all a secret. It won’t be a secret to-morrow, but you can always be able to say you were the first who was told. I have at last yielded to the earnest entreaties of my constituents and friends and party in general, and have consented to accept the nomination for Governor at the coming convention.”

From the proletariat fringing the walls and blocking the doorway arose an excited, exultant hum. Only the wild efforts of certain efficient, if unofficial, sergeants-at-arms prevented a mighty yell of applause. At the tables, however, the women looked bored or puzzled; while the men glanced at each other with the blank look of people who, out for a day’s jolly hunting, find themselves caught unexpectedly in a bear trap.

“Good Lord!” grunted Greer, “I hope our being here doesn’t commit any of us! To think of Conover, of all men, as governor! This’ll be a bombshell with a vengeance.”