The broker's house was blazing with light, and already many of the young guests had arrived. Plants and flowers were to be seen in profusion, and the mansion wore a holiday look. Fred was dazzled, but did not allow himself to appear ill at ease.
"Second floor back," said the servant who admitted him.
Fred went up-stairs and arranged his toilet in the room appropriated to gentlemen. Three or four other boys were present, but he knew no one. With one of these, an attractive boy of his own age, Fred stumbled into acquaintance, and they went downstairs together.
"Come with me." said the other boy, "we will pay our respects to Rose together."
Fred was glad to have some one take him in tow, and said so, adding, "Won't you tell me your name?"
"My name is George Swain. I am a Columbia schoolboy."
"And mine, Fred Fenton. I am in Mr. Wainwright's office."
Rose greeted both boys cordially. She glanced approvingly at Fred's dress. She had been a little uncertain whether he would be able to appear in suitable costume.
"You won't forget our dance?" she said, smiling.
"Oh, no; I am counting upon it."