He climbed the stairs unsteadily, and made his way along the hall with noticeable digressions from an even course. "'Here's to those that love us that love them,'" he caroled cheerily, and when, with fumbling fingers, he had thrown the front door open, his eyes, still blinking, failed to perceive for the moment that Mr. Livermore himself stood on the threshold, surrounded by some half a score of muffled figures. "Bates," began Mr. Livermore, "I forgot my latch-key, and ..." "Get away with you," cried cheerful Mr. Bates; "we've got all the monstrosities we want already. 'Here's to them that love them that we love' ..." "Bates," said Mr. Livermore, "you're drunk." "Shir," said Bates; "shir, I ashure you sherry was not fit to sherve upstairs." "Bates," said Mr. Livermore, "you are very drunk." "Shir," said Bates, "shir, I ashure you it's all owing to that monstrosity. Monstrosity not fit to sherve upstairs." Meanwhile Mrs. Livermore had lost no time in pushing past her husband into the hall, followed by Selma, followed by her widowed mother, Mrs. Pease, and Mr. Bertram Pease, her brother, and Miss McCunn, to whom Mr. Pease was supposed to be attentive, and Cousin Laura Fanshaw, and the two Misses Mapes, and Mr. Sellars, and Doctor Van Cott, all old friends, and a young gentleman by the name of Mickleworth, whom nobody knew much about, except Selma, who, for reasons of her own, kept her knowledge to herself. He had been invited to the family party as a chum of Cousin Dick Busby's, and was to have come with Dick, but the latter gentleman, at the last moment having received a more promising invitation, had sent word that he was ill. While Mr. Livermore drew Bates aside, the housemaid busied herself with the ladies' wraps. "You're through dinner early, ma'am," she said to Mrs. Livermore. "We haven't had any dinner, Mary Anne," replied her mistress. "Mother's range exploded, or something awful happened to the pipes just after we sat down, and everything was ruined. So we brought the entire party here in cabs. Tell cook she must give us some sort of a meal at once ... canned tomato soup to begin with, followed by cold canned tongue, and ..." "The breakfast fishballs," suggested Mary Anne. "Excellent!" exclaimed her mistress. "And after that we might have ..." "Marmalade," suggested Mary Anne. "And buckwheat cakes," Selma interrupted. "Of course," her mother acquiesced, "that will have to do ... with lots of bread and butter.... And now," she added cheerfully, turning to her guests, "we'll all go into the drawing-room and guess conundrums till dinner is ready. How fortunate it was that we had had our oysters before the accident!" "My dear," said Mr. Livermore in a whisper, "I fear that Bates is hopelessly intoxicated." "Oh, Lemuel, what are we to do?" gasped the hostess, clutching the hat-rack for support. They were alone together in the hall and face to face with a dilemma. "I give it up," said Mr. Livermore.