"I never drink whisky," said Albert, indignantly.
"I was only joking, Bertie. Well, mother, I will bid you good-evening."
"I wish you a pleasant time, Fred. Shall you be out late?"
"I can't tell, mother. It is so long since I have been to a fashionable party that I have forgotten when they do close."
Some of the boys who attended Miss Wainwright's party engaged cabs, but Fred would have thought this a foolish expenditure. It was a dry crisp day, with no snow on the ground, and he felt that it would do him no harm to walk. He did not expect to meet any one he knew, but on turning into Madison Avenue, he nearly ran into Raymond Ferguson.
Raymond did not at first recognize him. When he did, he surveyed him in his party dress in unconcealed amazement.
"Where did you get that rig?" he inquired, with more abruptness than ceremony.
Fred was glad to meet Raymond, and enjoyed his surprise.
"I bought it," he answered briefly.
"But why did you buy it? I don't see where you found the money. You'd better have saved it for food and rent."