"Let's talk about the weather," suggested Fibsy, who was not conducting himself on the seen and not heard plan. "The park is fine now. All full o' red an' gold autumn leaves. Have you noticed it, Mrs. Schuyler?"
"Not especially," and Ruth smiled at him, in appreciation of his conversational help. "I must walk over there to-morrow."
"Yes,'m. An' why don't you go for a long motor; ride up Westchester way? The scenery's great!"
"How do you know, have you been there?"
"Not just lately, but I was last fall. Do you remember the big trees just at the turn of the road by—"
But Ruth was not listening to the child. Stone had said something that claimed her attention.
However, Fibsy was unabashed. With no trace of forwardness, but with due belief in his security of position as a guest, he continued to chatter to Ruth, and rarely addressed any one else.
He has something up his sleeve, I thought, for I was beginning to have great faith in the lad's cleverness.
He sat at Ruth's left hand, Stone being in the seat of the honor guest, and as that left me between the two sisters, I was doomed to participate in their chatter. But I was opposite my hostess and could enjoy looking at her in the intervals of conversation.
Suddenly, I chanced to look up and I saw Fibsy's comical little face drawn with grimaces as he sang a snatch of a popular song.