“Oh, you know I live only next door, with an open gate between, and I thought I'd better give my place to you fellows who don't have my opportunity. I've already seen her. In fact, she ran over to see my mother yesterday.” The ball was in full swing when Carson arrived that night. The street in front of the club was crowded with carriages, buggies, and livery-stable “hacks.” The introductory grand march was in progress, and when Carson went to the improvised dressing-room in charge of Skelt to check his hat he found Garner standing before a mirror tugging at the lapels of an evening coat and trying to adjust a necktie which kept climbing higher than it should. Darley was just at the point in its post-bellum struggle where evening dress for men was a thing more of the luxurious past than the stern present, and Dwight readily saw that his partner had persuaded himself for once to don borrowed plumage. “What's the matter?” Carson asked, as he thrust his hat-check into the pocket of his immaculate white waistcoat. “Oh, the damn thing don't fit!” said Garner, in high disgust. “I know now that my father has a hump, or did have when he ordered this suit for his wedding-trip. The tailor who designed this _costeem de swaray_ tried to help him out, but he has transferred the hump to me by other means than heredity. Look how the back of it sticks out from my neck!” “That's because you twist your body to see it in the glass,” said Carson, consolingly. “It's not so bad when you stand straight.” “It's a case of not seeing others as they see you, eh?” Garner said, better satisfied. “I haven't taken a chew of tobacco to-night. I wouldn't splotch this shirt for the world. I couldn't spit farther than an inch with this collar on, anyway. She's holding the reel for me. I can't dance anything else, but I can go through that pretty well if I get at the end and watch the others. You'd better hurry up and see her card. There is a swell gang coming on the ten-o'clock train from Atlanta, and they all know her.” It was during the interval following the third number on the programme that Carson met Helen promenading with Keith and offered her his arm. “Oh, isn't it simply superb?” she said, when Keith had bowed himself away and they had joined the other strollers round the big, flower-perfumed room. “Carson, really I actually cried for joy just now in the dressing-room. I declare I never want to go away from home again. I'll never have such devoted friends as these.” “It is nice of you to look at it that way, Helen,” he said, “after the gay time you have had in Augusta and other cities.” “At least it is honest and sincere here at home,” she answered, “while down there it is--well, full of strife, social competition, and jealousies. I really; got homesick and simply had to come back.”