He stopped across the street from the building to watch for a moment. The Martin parlor on the second floor was ablaze with light. Occasionally an adult moved now and then within range of the windows as she shifted chairs to and fro. A boy from Southern Avenue, with whom he had a speaking acquaintance, walked up and into the entrance with an air of unnatural gravity. John could see him give his tie a twitch as he rang the front bell. A brougham drove up and a little girl encased in innumerable fluffy wraps was escorted up the steps by her mother. More girls followed from time to time. Some skipped merrily up to the door; others sauntered more slowly, tittering excitedly as they went along. John decided that it was time to go in. Up the heavily carpeted stairway, with its ornately panelled wainscoting and brown wallpaper, a half turn to the right, and the goal of the evening lay before him. The stout woman whom he had seen silhouetted in the window greeted him with a gracious smile. "So this is the John Fletcher of whom Louise is always talking!" A maid, subsidized for the evening, took his hat and coat away to some mysterious recess. Mrs. Martin led him into the parlor, lighted to a soft glow by deftly shaded electric bulbs. "Now let me introduce you," she said. "This is Martha Gill." He bowed awkwardly to the lady of the carriage. "And this, Ella Black." So it went, all down the smiling, giggling circle, as he promptly forgot each name in the presence of a new beauty. He joined the boys with a sigh of relief. They stood in an awkward group near the piano, and grinned and poked each other furtively in the ribs, and made mocking allusions to half-known juvenile love affairs until Mrs. Martin reentered with Louise. The little girl had never appeared so daintily bewitching to John; no, not even on that memorable first day at school. Her long, graceful curls were caught in a big, blue silk bow which matched her dress, and her eyes were a-dance with the excitement of her first party. She greeted the company with a shy, quick smile and sat down in the chair nearest her exultant worshiper. A constrained silence took possession of the little gathering again. If the children were to enjoy themselves at all, something must be done to put them at their ease. Mrs. Martin clapped her hands loudly. "Who likes 'Musical chairs'?" she asked. The little girls applauded vociferously. The boys, as became members of the more reserved sex, nodded condescendingly. While not as exciting as wrestling, or "Run, sheep, run," the game would pass the time away. In a moment they were sent flying to the different rooms in the flat after straight chairs of all sizes and descriptions, while Mrs. Martin supervised the formation of the long line which extended into the hall. "Now," said she, as she stepped over to the piano, "is there anyone who doesn't know how to play this game?"