The one and only triumph of Selina's brief day drew nearer. And that she should achieve it through a source hitherto so undervalued!

The worst about having Uncle Bruce coming for his meals was that two-thirds of the time he forgot to come, and one-half of the remaining times when he did come, he came trotting in after one had given up expecting him. Mamma always waited a reasonable time, however, insisting they owed this much to Uncle Bruce. Thus dinner was held back on the evening of the reception at the Carters. Though they did not expect to go over before say nine o'clock, certainly no sooner, Auntie and Mamma dressed before dinner.

"I've reached a place in life when I don't like to be hurried," explained Auntie.

"There's something elegant about dressing for dinner at any time," claimed Mamma, "and if there weren't so many little things to see to in the dining-room and pantry to help Viney along, I'd do it every day. I must say this grenadine of mine has held its own. There's nothing like a good stout cotton bag for hanging clothes away in, and camphor. I'll touch myself up a bit again, one's hair does get so disarranged, before going over to the Carters later."

Dinner was put on the table a quarter of an hour late, and they were sitting down, Mamma, Papa, Auntie and Selina, without Uncle Bruce, when the doorbell rang. Aunt Viney having answered it, summoned Papa.

As it proved, it was old Uncle Taliaferro Bucklin at the door, a brother-in-law of Aunt Viney, and owner and driver of a hack and two white horses whereby he made a living, meeting trains for passengers at the several railroad stations. His voice at the open door explaining to Papa, came in through the parlor to the dining-room.

"Done took 'em to the Bruce resi-dence, a' th'ain't arry pusson thar. Went aroun' to the kitchen doah at las' myself——"

"And you found nobody there, exactly," in Papa's quick and impatient voice. "Get along with it, Bucklin."

Uncle Taliaferro pursued his own line in narrative undisturbed. "Got thar trunks an' contraptions on top er the kerridge, wouldn't heah to comin' long without 'em. Said they was expected on this train by Mr. 'Relius Bruce, so I brought 'em aroun' heah."

To get to the point, as Papa discovered on going out to the shabby old hack, the fares of Uncle Taliaferro Bucklin proved to be the Honorable Verily Blanke, parliamentarian and historian, his secretary, the grandson of the personage and their man-servant, the only truly intimidating and disturbingly superior one of the three as it turned out.

Even so. And to get to a further point, the letter written from Washington to Uncle Bruce by the secretary, accepting the invitations sent by Marcus and announcing the date of their arrival, was discovered in the pocket of the disturbed Uncle Bruce next day, unopened and unrecalled.

Papa rose to the occasion as he did at those times when he abruptly became the decisive head of his house. One marveled and wondered about it afterward that he should not be this head always! He brought the guests in, explaining to them something of the eccentricities of their host, Uncle Bruce, presented them to Mamma, and accompanied by her, took them upstairs to make themselves a little more comfortable after their journey, for dinner.

Leaving them thus employed, he came down, got in the hack with Uncle Taliaferro and the luggage above, and the man-servant within, and drove around to the alley where according to Aunt Viney, Hester, the servant of the Bruce household, lived. Found her, put her up on the box by Uncle Taliaferro, took her to the house, and leaving her and the man-servant there to make the guests' rooms ready, as well as leaving the luggage of the guests, arrived at home again in time to meet the descending gentlemen and take them in to the re-served dinner.

This from Papa! There were reserves and capabilities then in him, too, unused and unsuspected, as in Auntie! Who or what had failed to draw them out?

The delay had given Auntie and Selina opportunity to open some ginger preserves, and search out some cake that was not too stale, from the cake-box. It gave Selina time to speak her scandalized mind, too. She was horrified!

"And they'll sleep there! In that house!" she managed to say to Mamma. She meant the Bruce house, big, three-storied, of stucco, with iron verandas upstairs and down, well enough outside, though needing painting. But inside——!

"Certainly, we've nothing to do with that," said Mamma sensibly. "It would have been no more in order if Juanita had been here and they had been expected, you know that. They and your Uncle Bruce will eat here. We'll do our part.

"Warn them about the books on the stairs and the landing, Lavinia," reminded Auntie.

She referred to Marcus' new Encyclopedia. When the twenty-five volumes of it came home, there did not seem any place for them in the house already overflowing with books, and Aunt Juanita piled them along the stairs until a place for their disposal could be discussed, and nobody ever had moved them.

Once more Aunt Viney in her best apron now, and a fresh and snowy headkerchief, brought dinner in and put it on the table.

The Honorable Verily Blanke, across the table from Selina, was a delightful, elderly personage with grizzled hair, and a well-kept grizzled beard, whose head as if by its splendid weight, was sunk forward between great shoulders. His eyes were blue and keen and kindly, and he kept looking across with a wonderful gleam and smile in them as if he found something there worth the looking at, in Selina, whose cheeks with the wonderful exigency of it all, were their finest coral, and whose pretty concern, nicely held in, was in itself a tribute. Perhaps his eyes wandered in kindly fashion to Auntie, too, comely and restful in her black velvet gown.

The Honorable Cyril Doe, the grandson of the personage, was very much less satisfactory. His chin was on a line with the dome center of his head, his body seemed to lack co-ordination and to be about to drop an arm or a leg or two from sheer disinterestedness in holding to them any longer, and on being addressed he started and ejaculated in British. The older gentleman on the contrary, spoke quietly in English of his pleasure in meeting American life and customs.

"Will not you and Mr. Doe go with us this evening across to our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Roswell Carter, who are entertaining for their young daughter?" asked Mrs. Wistar.

"For myself, I shall have pleasure in going with you," said Mr. Blanke. "How is it with you, Cyril? We will both go. We are desirous to see just as much of the South and its life as we may be permitted to."

So after dinner Papa took the gentlemen up to the Bruce house to dress, and Selina hastened upstairs to her own room to get herself ready that she might go across to the Carters ahead of the others, and make the proper explanations.

Her new little evening dress of white net was very nice. Auntie had a real genius for making clothes! She viewed herself and her slim bare neck and her smooth young arms in the mirror of her big old bureau, with approval. Her first real evening gown! She took the evening cape of white cloth from her wardrobe and slipped it about her with some complacency. Persons, just as a matter touching on self-respect, she reflected as she viewed the effect of this, have no right to be without those garments reasonably suited to the occasion. It was gratifying, too, to note how readily she adapted herself to them when she became their owner. It seemed to argue an intention in the stamp of her by nature, for these fitnesses and niceties! So pretty Selina!

She did not get to the Carters ahead of the others, after all. As she came downstairs in her pleasing array, white fan and white gloves added to the festive rest, Aunt Viney, already delayed in her home-going past all timeliness, was opening the door to Mr. Tuttle Jones in cape overcoat and top-hat, and to Uncle Bruce in Mr. Jones' firm grasp! It was to be an evening of superlatives!

Hearing the voices Mamma came hurrying down with her scarf and wrap on, and Auntie with her Paisley shawl about her velvet dress, followed a minute later.

Mr. Jones, his small moustaches exquisitely exact, his collar and shirt front protected by his deftly adjusted muffler, the pearl-gray glove on the hand staying and steadying his companion, immaculate, had steered Uncle Bruce in and was setting him down in a hall chair.

Then he turned to Mamma and Auntie from a last regard of Uncle Bruce after getting him deposited. One saw now that there were tiny beads as of stress upon the forehead of young Mr. Jones, though his manner to Mamma was perfect.

"It is owing to the particular shade of blue in the legal papers Mr. Bruce here had in his hand at something to five o'clock that I'm spared being his unintentional murderer."

He mopped his brow with an immaculate handkerchief, the while giving the ladies time to disburden themselves of their ejaculations, then continued his explanation.

"While dressing to start out for the evening, dressing before dinner I'm gratefully able to add, this peculiar quality in blue, the exact thing I've been trying to visualize for my mother's projected scheme in her new Dutch dining-room—foolscap blue shall we call it?—kept recurring to me. As I reached for my scarf-pin, the collusion between the recall and the original came to me with a crash. Mr. Bruce here, our lawyer for the bank, has his private box with us as a sort of special privilege. I'd let him go into the vault to this box after hours, reading a bulk of blue papers as he went, and though I couldn't recall seeing him come out, I'd locked that vault door myself at five o'clock and gone home. I've had him in a drug store for an hour since I got him out. If we'd had a modern vault with one of these new time locks, his end would be on my soul."

Uncle Bruce came into the talk here. The bow to his cravat was at the back of his neck and his beard and hair stood rumpled wildly.

"It was highly important I should finish reading those papers before locking them up. I found myself with only a few matches in my pocket and some loose papers to convert into spills to break the stygian darkness he left me in," he spoke testily.

"Aurelius," said Mamma, slowly and with the careful emphasis one uses to some harmless but trying irresponsible whose attention must be held, "that very delightful Englishman and his secretary are here that Marcus sent the invitation to. Robert is up at your house with them now. It's very necessary we should find out from you what you want to do with them."

Uncle Bruce, little mummified, scholarly person, from his position of temporary collapse on the hall chair, glared at her. He grasped his beard below his chin with an exasperated hand, and his wild rumple of hair seemed almost to lift and stiffen with his irritation.

"Do with 'em? Do with 'em?" said Uncle Bruce with testy finality. "Tell 'em from me to go to the devil."

"Mr. Bruce," said Mamma with dignity, "you forget yourself!"

"Not a bit of it," from Auntie shortly, who had small use for any of the Bruce family.

"Well then," said Uncle Bruce flinging his little person up from the chair and making a snatch at his hat on the hat-tree by him, "if you like it any better, tell 'em from me, I've gone there."