"Well, Perry Parkhurst!" he exclaimed in amazement.
"'M in the wrong pew," said Perry sheepishly. "Got the wrong party,
Mr. Tate. Hope I didn't scare you."
"Well—you gave us a thrill, Perry." Realization dawned on him.
"Why, of course; you're bound for the Townsends' circus ball."
"That's the general idea."
"Let me introduce Mr. Butterfield, Mr. Parkhurst. Parkhurst is our most famous young bachelor here." Then turning to Perry: "Butterfield is staying with us for a few days."
"I got a little mixed up," mumbled Perry. "I'm very sorry."
"Heavens, it's perfectly all right; most natural mistake in the world.
I've got a clown costume and I'm going down there myself after a
while. Silly idea for a man of my age." He turned to Butterfield.
"Better change your mind and come down with us."
The good-looking young man demurred. He was going to bed.
"Have a drink, Perry?" suggested Mr. Tate.
"Thanks, I will."