People came and came, and came. All Cyrus, of course, in its shining best: Mrs. Scatter in green poplin, Miss Pringle in blue; the Misses Caddie dressed alike in "that brown silk that was so fashionable one season--don't you remember? And then went out so sudden, and Hanks has been trying to get rid of the piece ever since. He put it down to half price directly Madam Flynt's invitations were out, and the Caddies took it and made it up themselves. There was four yards more than the pattern called for, but they took it all, so they could make over; and then if they didn't put every scrap of it into the skirt so 'twould fade alike! They stand out like penwipers, don't they?" Thus Mrs. Bagley to her husband, who said, "Yes! yes! very tasty! very tasty!" being absorbed in the problem of how much "Acme astral" it would take to light these rooms, and what possibility there might be of persuading Madam Flynt to try it instead of candles. Tinkham and Tupham came, in long barges: the former a little amused, a little patronizing as usual: patronizing not of Madam Flynt, but of Cyrus in general and Kitty in particular. "Drives a cab, or so I understand. Yes! a sad come-down for an old family. I understand the aunt has come on to give countenance to it: you remember her; Johanna Ross; always peculiar!" This attitude, whispered in the dressing room (to the silent rage of Miss Anne Peace, who longed to stick into Tinkham the pins she drew from its skirts and veils) rustled down the stairs and into the drawing-room, but appeared to evaporate at sight of Kitty and the beryl necklace. Tupham was, as usual, hearty and friendly; pleased at being asked, and eager to "take in the whole show" for the benefit of those at home. Thus female Tupham managed to slide an appraising thumb and finger over Kitty's satin, "thick as a board, my dear, and soft--well, there!" while male Tupham made a point of sampling every item of food and drink with strict impartiality. Corona College arrived rather late, in a somewhat superior, if not Tinkhamesque frame of mind. Madam Flynt, ever thoughtful, had bidden Bobby Chanter pick out ten nice boys for her, which he had done with anxious care. They had had a merry drive over, and were under the impression that they had come partly to please good old Bagpipes (a subtle rendering of Bobby's name), partly, perhaps unconsciously, to amuse themselves with the would-be graces of a rustic community. A fragment of trialogue, overheard near the drawing-room door, conveys the attitude of these young gentlemen: _A._ "Pink muslin one rather neat: what?" _B._ "So-so; not too! blue one has more go to her. P'raps she's the lady cab-driver: they have one here, I'm told. Trot her out, what say? Put her through her paces!" _C._ "Get on to the little thing with curls! She's quite a daisy. Think I must give her a turn." (Thank you, sir! This was my humble self.)