"Has Hiram told you any particular plans about his party?"
"Why, all there are to tell, I suppose. They are to have the biggest orchestra—harp, horn, and all that sort of thing." Then, shaking his head impressively: "And the supper will cost one hundred dollars—maybe two hundred. And Hiram is to have a new pair of black silk socks and patent-leather pumps, and an elegant new dinner jacket, for the occasion; he's to be brand-new all over, indeed, for, with a real whipper-snapper air, he informed me he was to have awfully swell black trousers and waistcoat, and a new black satin tie. The whole thing is to be mighty fine, I can tell you."
"Well, it's quite impossible for you to give as costly a party as Hiram's, for your father is a poor man in comparison to his, my son."
"I know it," and John once more threw himself forward and laid his head on his mother's lap.
"So we must think of something fantastic and fanciful," Mrs. Colfax resumed, "and hope that the unusualness of your party will compensate for the expensive supper and orchestra of Hiram's."
"What would you give, mother? For you know right off I could never plan a new party any more than if I was a—"
"A what, my son?"
"A—barber's pole—or a wax figure, or any other know-nothing thing."
"You're interested in Indians, aren't you?"
"Indians!" and jumping to his feet John trod forcibly across the floor, as if he was on his way to encounter a whole tribe of them. Then he slowly stated: "I should remark that I am. But what have Indians to do with my party?"