Then in through the parlor door they went and on through the folding doors into the sitting-room where Mrs. Brady stood among her plants. She had just cut two lovely roses from the same bush, and one she pinned on her husband's coat and the other on little Jim's jacket.
"Parties is queer," thought little Jim, "but they're nice."
For Mrs. Brady, in her quiet way, was contriving to let the boy understand that she thought exceedingly well of him. It began to grow dusk, but it was not yet so dark that little Jim failed to see Pat and Mike come in and run lightly up the stairs. And then there was a tramp of feet outside, the doorbell rang, and as the electric light flooded the house, Andy opened the front door and in trooped boys and girls.
Little Jim was amazed. Not one came into the parlor, but Andy sent them all upstairs.
"Is them boys and girls the party?" he asked quickly of Mrs. Brady.
"Yes, Jim," was the kind answer. "Your party."
Little Jim reflected. "I'd best not be lickin' any of the boys then this evenin'?" And he turned inquiring eyes on Mrs. Brady.
Mrs. Brady smiled. "No, Jim," she replied. "You must try to please them in every way that you can, and make them enjoy themselves."
"Let 'em do just as they're a moind to, and not raise a fuss about it?"
"Yes."