"Don't you think you are?"
"Well, in Charleston we weren't considered just to say common people, Daniel, though perhaps we were over-estimated."
"Good heavens, Margaret, I don't mean that you yourself are common; I certainly wouldn't have married you if I had thought that. I mean you make yourself—well, too democratic. That's what I mean, too democratic."
"The prerogative of the well-born, Daniel, who don't feel the necessity for snobbishness. Have you fixed the date for the party?"
"Yes, the twenty-second; three weeks from yesterday. I'll have the house decorated by a Lancaster florist and I'll have a caterer from Philadelphia." He repeated with relish his astonishing intention.
"But, Daniel, are you sure we can afford all that?"
He laughed exultantly. "Well, my dear, I've never given a large party and I'm going to impress the town! It will be the swellest thing that was ever given here! Why shouldn't it be? I can afford it—that is," he pulled himself up, "I can afford it once in a while, and," he added with feeling, "I'm celebrating the happiest event of my whole life. You're worth all that it will cost, Margaret!"
"Thanks!"
"You're welcome, my dear."
"We must invite your step-mother to the party, Daniel."