"No," agreed Violet. "There is no studied disorder in his appearance. Miss Fabian seems to hear everything he says," she added demurely; "and why, if he is her cousin, does she call him Mr. Sidney?"
Long-Lashes, who had looked cheered at the information of relationship, gloomed again.
"I'm sure I have it right," went on Violet. "Mrs. Fabian told me he was her nephew."
"Oh," returned her companion, "but Mrs. Fabian is Kathleen's step-mother." He looked across at the pair anxiously. "She has adopted him, though, that's evident. Her wits haven't gone wool-gathering since we sat down."
When the young people returned to the drawing-room they found a charming transformation had taken place. The spacious floor was bare, garlands of evergreen, holly, and mistletoe were wreathed in all possible positions, and a majestic Christmas tree sparkling with the tiny electric bulbs of these sophisticated days stood in a recess. Its boughs were gay with favors for a german.
An orchestra, concealed behind palms in the hall, played a Christmas carol as the couples entered.
"There are Christmas fairies even in Gotham," said Phil to Kathleen. "Ah," he thought, "poverty may be no disgrace, but what a convenience is money!" "Before we go any further," he added aloud, "I want to thank you, Miss Fabian, for the honor you paid the stranger in a strange land by allowing me to take you out to dinner. I want you to know that I appreciate it in a gathering of your own friends."
Kathleen's calm eyes met his. She was glad he could not know that she had expected to champion his crude appearance in a gathering where clothes went far to make the man.
"I never thought of doing anything else," she returned; then added, smiling, "You know I owed you hospitality."