Phil looked up just in time to see Mrs. Tramlay’s feeble nervous face twitch into surprise and something like horror. Mr. Tramlay extended his hand, as a hint that his wife should arise,--a hint which could not be ignored after his hand had closed upon hers. Even when upon her feet, however, the lady of the house seemed unable to frame a greeting; had Phil been a city acquaintance, no matter how uninteresting, she would have smiled evasively and told him she was delighted that he had been able to come, but what could a lady, at her own reception, say to a young man in a sack-coat and a hard-rubber watch-guard? Mrs. Tramlay looked at her husband in weak protest; her husband frowned a little and nodded his head impatiently; this pantomime finally stimulated Mrs. Tramlay to such a degree that she was able to ejaculate,-- “What a delightful surprise!” “Let me make you acquainted with some of the company,” said the host, drawing Phil away. “Don’t feel uncomfortable; I’ll explain that you just dropped in from out of town, so you couldn’t be expected to be in evening dress.” Phil began to recover from his embarrassment, thanks to his host’s heartiness, but also to the fact that the strain had been too severe to last long. He slowly raised his eyes and looked about him, assisted somewhat by curiosity as to what “evening dress” meant. He soon saw that all the gentlemen wore black clothes and white ties, and that the skirts of the coats retired rapidly. He had seen such a coat before,--seen it often at Haynton, on Ex-Judge Dickman, who had served two terms in the Legislature and barely escaped going to Congress. The only difference between them was that the judge’s swallow-tail coat was blue and had brass buttons,--not a great difference, if one considered the distance of New York and Haynton. “Upon my word,” exclaimed Tramlay, suddenly, “I don’t believe you’ve met Lucia yet. Here she is--daughter?” Lucia was floating by,--a vision of tulle, ivory, peachblow, and amber; she leaned on the arm of a young man, into whose face she was looking intently, probably as an excuse for not looking at the unwelcome visitor. Her father’s voice, however, she had always instinctively obeyed; so she stopped, pouted, and looked defiantly at Phil, who again dropped his eyes, a low bow giving him a pretext. “Daughter,” said Tramlay, “here’s our old friend Phil, from Haynton. Now, don’t spend the whole evening talking over old times with him, but introduce him to a lot of pretty girls: you know them better than I. Phil, you can explain to them how you struck a full-dress reception just after landing from a cruise; ’twill amuse them more, I’ll warrant, than any story any showy young fellow can tell them this evening. It isn’t every young man who can have a good thing to tell against himself the first time he meets a new set.”