“They’ve started the new club-house,” said Jack, with absolute composure. “We are going to run out that extension you suggested when you were down there last winter.” He clipped his egg lightly, without a change of countenance. “Anything from Helen Shirley?” “Just a line, thanking me for the magazines,” Jack answered in a casual tone, not the faintest interest betraying itself in the inflections of his voice. Sanford thought he detected a slight increase of color on his young friend’s always rosy cheeks, but he said nothing. “Did she say anything about coming to New York?” Sanford asked, looking at Jack quizzically out of the corner of his eye. “Yes; now I come to think of it, I believe she did say something about the major’s coming, but nothing very definite.” Jack spoke as if he had been aroused from some reverie entirely foreign to the subject under discussion. He continued to play with his egg, flecking off the broken bits of shell with the point of his spoon. With all his pretended composure, however, he could not raise his eyes to those of his host. “What a first-class fraud you are, Jack!” said Sanford, laughing at last. He leaned back in his chair and looked at Hardy good-humoredly from under his eyebrows. “I would have read you Slocomb’s letter, lying right before you, if I hadn’t been sure you knew everything in it. Helen and the major will be here next week, and you know the very hour she’ll arrive, and you have staked out every moment of her time. Now don’t try any of your high-daddy tricks on me. What are you going to do next Tuesday night?” Jack laughed, but made no attempt to parry a word of Sanford’s thrust. He looked up at last inquiringly over his plate and said, “Why?” “Because I want you to dine here with them. I’ll ask Mrs. Leroy to chaperon Helen. Leroy is still abroad, and she can come. We’ll get Bock, too, with his ’cello. What other ladies are in town?” Jack’s face was aglow in an instant. The possibility of dining in Sanford’s room, with its background of rich color and with all its pretty things that Helen he knew would love so well, lent instant interest to Sanford’s proposition. He looked about him. He made up his mind just where he would seat her after dinner: the divan nearest the curtains was the best. How happy she would be, and how new it would all be to her! He could have planned nothing more delightful. Then remembering that Sanford had asked him a question, he recovered himself and nonchalantly gave the names of several young women he knew who might be agreeable guests. But after a moment’s reflection he suggested as a second thought that Sanford leave these details to Mrs. Leroy. Jack knew her tact, and he knew to a nicety just how many young girls Mrs. Leroy would bring. The success of bachelor dinners, from Hardy’s present standpoint, was not dependent upon the attendance of half a dozen extra young women and _two_ men; quite the reverse.