"Barry," she said, simply, like a child, "I'll stick to you until I--die." He looked down into the adoring eyes. "I believe you would, Leila," he said, with a boyish catch in his voice; "you're the dearest thing on God's great earth!" The chilled fruit was already on the table when they went in, and it was followed by a chafing dish over which the General presided. Red-faced and rapturous, he seasoned and stirred, and as the result of his wizardry there was placed before them presently such plates of Creole crab as could not be equaled north of New Orleans. "To cook," said the General, settling himself back in his chair and beaming at Mary who was beside him, "one must be a poet--to me there is more in that dish than merely something to eat. There's color--the red of tomatoes, the green of the peppers, the pale ivory of mushrooms, the snow white of the crab--there's atmosphere--aroma." "The difference," Mary told him, smiling, "between your cooking and Susan Jenks' is the difference between an epic--and a nursery rhyme. They're both good, but Susan's is unpremeditated art." "I take off my hat to Susan Jenks," said the General--"when her poetry expresses itself in waffles and fried chicken." Mary was devoting herself to the General. Porter Bigelow who was on the other side of her, was devoting himself to Aunt Isabelle. Aunt Isabelle was serenely content in her new office of chaperone. "I can hear so much better in a crowd." she said, "and then there's so much to see." "And this is the time for the celebrities," said Porter, and wrote on the corner of the supper card the name of a famous Russian countess at the table next to them. Beyond was the Speaker of the House; the British Ambassador with his fair company of ladies; the Spanish Ambassador at a table of darker beauties. Mary, listening to Porter's pleasant voice, was constrained to admit that he could be charming. As for the freckles and "carrot-head," they had been succeeded by a fine if somewhat florid complexion, and the curled thickness of his brilliant crown gave to his head an almost classic beauty. As she studied him, his eyes met hers, and he surprised her by a quick smile of understanding. "Oh, Contrary Mary," he murmured, so that the rest could not hear, "what do you think of me?" She found herself blushing, "_Porter._" "You were weighing me in the balance? Red head against my lovely disposition?" Before she could answer, he had turned back to Aunt Isabelle, leaving Mary with her cheeks hot. After supper, the young host insisted that Leila and the General should go home in his limousine with Barry and Aunt Isabelle. "Mary and I will follow in a taxi," he said in the face of their protests. "Young man," demanded the twinkling General, "if I accept, will you look upon me in the light of an incumbrance or a benefactor?" "A benefactor, sir," said Porter, promptly, and that settled it.