That leaves Vincent up in the air for keeps. He don't know what to make of this reception, or of the change that happened to her; but he feels he ought to register some sort of a kick. "But, mother," says he, "what does this mean? Such clothes! And such--such"--here he throws a meanin' look at the Indian gent. "Allow me," says grandmother, breakin' in real dignified, "to introduce Mr. John Little Bear, son of Chief Won-go-plunki. I am very sorry to interrupt our talk on art, John; but I suppose I must say a few words to Vincent. Would you mind taking your coffee on the back veranda?" He was a well-trained red man, John was, and he understands the back out sign; so inside of a minute the crockery has been pushed away and I'm attendin' a family reunion that appears to be cast on new lines. Vincent begins again by askin' what it all means. "It means, Vincent," says she, "that I have caught up with the procession. I tried being the old-fashioned kind of grandmother, and I wasn't a success. Now I'm learning the new way, and I like it first rate." "But your--your clothes!" gasps Vincent. "Well, what of them?" says she. "You made fun of the ones I used to wear; but these, I would have you know, were selected for me by a committee of six chorus ladies who know what is what. I am quite satisfied with my clothes, Vincent." "Possibly they're all right," says he; "but how--how long have you been wearing your hair that way?" "Ever since Madam Montrosini started on my improvement course," says she. "I am told it is quite becoming. And have you noticed my new waist line, Vincent?" Vincent hadn't; but he did then, and he had nothin' to say, for she has an hourglass lookin' like a hitchin' post. Not bein' able to carry on the debate under them headings, he switches and comes out strong on what an awful thing it was for her to be livin' among such dreadful people. "Why," says grandmother, "they're real nice, I'm sure. They have been just as good to me as they could be. They take turns going out to dinner with me and showing me around the town." "Good heavens!" says Vincent. "And this--this Bear person, does he----" "He is an educated, full blooded Sioux," says grandmother. "He has toured Europe with Buffalo Bill, and just now he is an artists' model. He is very entertaining company, Johnny is." "Johnny!" gasps Vincent under his breath. That's the last straw. He lays down the law then and there to grandmother. If she ever expects him to recognize her again, she must shake this whole crowd and come with him. "Where to, Vincent?" says she. "Why, to my home, of course," says he. "And have your wife's maid speak of me as a dumpy old scarecrow? No, thank you!" and she calls the waiter to bring a demitasse with cognac. "But no one could call you that now, mother," says Vincent. "You--you're different, quite different." "Oh, am I?" says she. "To be sure you are," says he. "Julia and I would be glad to have you with us. Really, we would."