"He has too bad an attack to see anything but the lady," said Harrison one evening when the "Sons" were gathered for an old-time supper party. "It's always the way," commented the philosophical Bragdon, "When you lose your heart your sense of humor goes too. Engaged couples couldn't do such ridiculous stunts if they had the least particle of it left." "Well, if Monty Brewster is still in love with Miss Drew he takes a mighty poor way of showing it." "Subway" Smith's remark fell like a bombshell. The thought had come to every one, but no one had been given the courage to utter it. For them Brewster's silence on the subject since the DeMille dinner seemed to have something ominous behind it. "It's probably only a lovers' quarrel," said Bragdon. But further comment was cut short by the entrance of Monty himself, and they took their places at the table. Before the evening came to an end they were in possession of many astonishing details in connection with the coming ball. Monty did not say that it was to be given for Miss Drew and her name was conspicuously absent from his descriptions. As he unfolded his plans even the "Little Sons," who were imaginative by instinct and reckless on principle, could not be quite acquiescent. "Nopper" Harrison solemnly expressed the opinion that the ball would cost Brewster at least $125,000. The "Little Sons" looked at one another in consternation, while Brewster's indifference expressed itself in an unflattering comment upon his friend's vulgarity. "Good Lord, Nopper," he added, "you would speculate about the price of gloves for your wedding." Harrison resented the taunt. "It would be much less vulgar to do that, Monty, saving your presence, than to force your millions down every one's throat." "Well, they swallow them, I've noticed," retorted Brewster, "as though they were chocolates." Pettingill interrupted grandiloquently. "My friends and gentlemen!" "Which is which?" asked Van Winkle, casually. But the artist was in the saddle. "Permit me to present to you the boy Croesus--the only one extant. His marbles are plunks and his kites are made of fifty-dollar notes. He feeds upon coupons à la Newburgh, and his champagne is liquid golden eagles. Look at him, gentlemen, while you can, and watch him while he spends thirteen thousand dollars for flowers!" "With a Viennese orchestra for twenty-nine thousand!" added Bragdon. "And yet they maintain that silence is golden." "And three singers to divide twelve thousand among themselves! That's absolutely criminal," cried Van Winkle. "Over in Germany they'd sing a month for half that amount." "Six hundred guests to feed--total cost of not less than forty thousand dollars," groaned "Nopper," dolefully. "And there aren't six hundred in town," lamented "Subway" Smith. "All that glory wasted on two hundred rank outsiders."