He did that in a very short while, for a fact; he had not found out who was inside at all when suddenly Grace Fuller sprang out upon the piazza.
“If you boys are out there,” she called, “you might as well come in and make yourselves at home. Nobody cares how you’re dressed.”
After that, of course, there was nothing for them to do but come, as gracefully as they could, which was very ungracefully indeed. They marched sheepishly up the path in single file, each trying to be last. How they ever got the courage to get into the door nobody knew, but they did somehow, making a group which almost caused the dignified butler to commit the heinous sin of smiling, and which made Grace Fuller fairly go into hysterics.
However, they were in, which was something. And that memorable “party” had begun.
It wasn’t much of a party, fortunately for the Banded Seven’s peace of mind. As it turned out, Grace Fuller hadn’t half expected them to come. She was afraid they wouldn’t dare take the risk. Here Master Chauncey Van Rensselaer (hero of the smutty white flannel) got in a Chesterfieldian compliment, the drift of which is left to the reader’s imagination. Then the girl went on to explain the dilemma she had been in, not knowing whether to prepare for them or not, which promptly “reminded” Dewey of a story.
“Story,” said he, “about a tenderfoot who went hunting out West, b’gee, and he came across a beast that he thought was a deer, and then again he had half an idea it was a calf. So he looked at his gun and at the beast, and didn’t know what to do. That was the dilemma, b’gee, and the way he got over it was a way you might have tried for the party. He shot to hit it if it was a deer, and miss it if it was a calf, b’gee.”
Told in Master Dewey’s interesting way, that broke the ice, and then everybody settled down to have a good time. Judge Fuller came downstairs a few minutes later and was introduced to the Seven, who had, so he surmised politely, expected a masquerade ball. That made them more at ease; they wondered why they hadn’t thought of that excuse themselves, and Parson Stanard (gentleman in the clerical costume with a rip up the back) promptly corralled the judge up in one corner and started him on the subject of the Substance and Attributes of Spinoza, and the Transcendental Analytic of Kant.
Meanwhile Grace Fuller was entertaining the rest. As Dewey had predicted, she wanted to thank Mark, though she didn’t fall on his neck. She must needs have the story of the gallant rescue told all over again by the rest of the Seven, a proceeding which so embarrassed Mark that he went over to learn about Spinoza and Kant. He would not return until Grace went to the piano to sing for them. After that Texas hauled out a mouth organ, and gave a genuine cowboy jig which moved the Parson, at Judge Fuller’s invitation, to render Professor So-and-So’s latest theory as to the tune in the parabasis of a Greek comedy.
That scared them all away from the piano, and Dewey told the story of the circus, which he did so vividly that Texas got excited and wanted to lasso something, even starting to undo the rope at his waist and show Grace how it was done. He was finally persuaded that there wasn’t room in the parlor, and then to cool him off they went in and had some ice-cream.
At last somebody discovered that it was late, and time for that curious visit to terminate. Perhaps it was Judge Fuller, who hadn’t been able to escape from the tenacious Parson all evening. Anyway, they started on their return trip, which was destined to prove momentous, after a leave-taking which was affecting all around.