She pretended not to hear him. “It is time to dress.”
“Don’t say there’s a party to-night,” he begged.
“Of course there is, and you know it. The Homers are giving a dinner for their daughter. Everyone is to wear their costumes wrong side out. Isn’t that clever? I laid out a white linen suit for you; it will look so well turned inside out; and I am going to wear an organdie that has a wonderful satin lining. There is no reason why we must be frumps.”
“I’d rather stay home and play cribbage,” Steve said, almost wistfully. “There’s a rain creeping up. Let’s not go!”
“I hate staying home when it is raining.” Beatrice went into her room to try the effect of a sash wrong side out. “It is so dull in a big drawing room 103 when there are just two people,” she added, as Steve appeared in the doorway.
“Two people make a home,” he found himself answering.
The Gorgeous Girl glanced at him briefly, during which instant she seemed quite twenty-six years old and the spoiled daughter of a rich man, the childish, senseless part of her had vanished. “Would you please take Monster into the kitchen for her supper?” she asked, almost insolently.
So the owner of the O’Valley Leather Works found his solace in tucking the pound-and-a-half spaniel under his arm and trying to convince himself that he was all wrong and a self-made man must keep a watch on himself lest he become a boor!
The day the O’Valleys left for New York in company with three other couples Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord Vondeplosshe arrived in Hanover, having visited until their welcome was not alone worn out but impossible ever to be replaced. A social item in the evening paper stated that they had taken an apartment at the Graystone and would be at home to their friends––whoever they might be.