She had also arranged with her own hands the masses of narcissus and jonquils on the mantels, and had selected the exact shade of yellow tulips which centred the dining-room table.

It was to be a "Gold-Mine Dinner," so Arthur had told her, "and everything must be in harmony." Then seeing Parkins, who had entered unexpectedly and caught her in the act (it is bad form for a hostess to arrange flowers in some houses--the butler does that), she asked in an indifferent tone: "And how many are we to have for dinner, Parkins ?" She knew, of course, having spent an hour over a diagram placing the guests.
"Fourteen, my lady." "Fourteen!--really, quite a small affair." And with the air of one accustomed all her life to banquets in palaces of state, she swept out of the room.
The only time she betrayed herself was just before the arrival of the guests, when her mind reverted to her daughter.
"The Portmans are giving a ball next week, Arthur, and I want Corinne to go.

Are you sure he is coming ?" "Don't worry, Kitty, Portman's coming; and so are the Colonel, and Crossbin, and Hodges, and the two Chicago directors, and Mason, and a lot more.

Everybody's coming, I tell you.

If Mukton Lode doesn't sit up and take notice with a new lease of life after tonight, I'm a Dutchman.
Run, there's the bell." The merciful Scribe will spare the reader the details incident upon the arrival of the several guests.