"Going where? Have you taken leave of your senses, sonny? What are you talking about, pray?" "We're going to the Coulters', Ma," asserted Carl, waving the white envelope above his head in a frenzy of delight. "Look! Here's the bid. And across the bottom of the paper Mr. Coulter himself has written to say that he's sorry the invitation has been so delayed and he hopes my mother and all of us--even the baby--will come. Gee!" Quite exhausted, Carl dropped into a chair. "But why should Mr. Coulter send this invitation to you?" "I don't know, I'm sure. Maybe Hal Harling or somebody told him how disappointed I was at not being asked," returned Carl serenely. "Mercy! I hope not," ejaculated his horrified mother. "Why not?" "Why, it would be almost like asking Mr. Coulter for an invitation." "He wouldn't care, I guess," came comfortably from Carl. "There's plenty of room and there'll be food enough so a few people more or less wouldn't bother him." "But I wouldn't think of going to a party, or letting you, if you had demanded in so many words to be invited," returned Mrs. McGregor with a toss of her head. "You don't mean to say, Ma, that you're thinking of not going," her son gasped. "I certainly shall not stir a step to Mr. Coulter's until I find out how we happened to receive this remarkable invitation." "Ma!" "I sha'n't," repeated his mother. "Why, the bare idea of your trying to get a card to that wedding reception!" "I didn't try to, Mother; honest, I didn't," protested Carl. "I didn't ask anybody to do a thing for me. I was only fooling when I said that. Of course Hal Harling knows well enough that I've been crazy to go. He and Louise couldn't help seeing how sore I was about it. But I never said anything else." "I'm thankful to hear that. One never knows what you will do." Mrs. McGregor gave a sigh of relief and taking the card examined it. "Perhaps," she presently observed in a gentler tone, "this invitation has nothing to do with you. It may be possible that young Mr. Coulter remembered how long your father worked in the mills and thought it would be nice to ask us because of that. If so, it was very thoughtful of him. And most likely the card was sent to you because he happened to have heard your name. Goodness knows, with the messes you're in, I should think all the town might be aware of it." "And you'll go, Ma?" In his eagerness Carl brushed aside the unflattering picture his mother's words presented. "If I find it's a bona fide invitation and not some of your concocting I'll go--not otherwise. It would be ungrateful to snub Mr. John if he is trying to be kind. But the thing that makes me doubtful is that the envelope should be addressed to you. Why wasn't the invitation sent to me? I am the head of the family--or at least I attempt to be," amended she with an upward curve of her lips.