"That's the right way," said old Mrs. Douglass to her approvingly.
At the door of the town hall carriages and motor cars were setting folk down, and Gertie, who had hoped the new blouse would enable her to smile at country costumes, felt depressed by their magnificence. In the front row Lady Douglass stood up, nodded, gave brief ingratiating smiles, and told people how remarkably well they were looking. Gertie, comforted by the near presence of her cousin, glanced over her shoulder, and wished she were with the shilling folk.
"Care to see the programme, Gertie?"
"I'll do the same as I do at a music hall," she said, "and take it as it comes. How did you think I managed at dinner, Clarence?"
"Capitally!"
"I had a knife and two forks left at the end," she said regretfully.
"A recitation," Clarence read from his programme. "Our friend ought to be here."
"Who do you mean?"
"Bulpert. You remember Bulpert, don't you?"
"I'd nearly forgotten him," she admitted.