Nor was it surprising that the appearance of the brother and sister should strike an observer as startling. Alla was swathed in yellowish-brown stuff. Her gown seemed to have no shape or design, just draperies that wrapped her about in mummy fashion. Long sleeves came well down over her hands, a high collar rose over her ears, and the long skirt twined itself round her feet, till she could scarcely walk. The material was a woolly serge, and no bit of colour or trimming relieved the severity. She wore no ornament save a hideous necklace of great, ugly stones, that fell down as far as her knees, and carried a dilapidated old fan of peacock feathers. Patty had never seen her look so unattractive, for even in her eccentric garb, she was usually picturesque. But in this brown thing she was utterly without charm. Sam Blaney, too, looked ill-dressed and out of place. He had bowed to convention to the extent of wearing evening clothes, but they were not of correct cut, and did not fit well, and he wore an absurd tie of soft silk, of his favourite light green hue, which gave him the appearance of a caricature. However, the two were most affable and agreeable, and their soft, low voices murmured pleasantries suitable to the occasion. At dinner the conversation turned on the approaching Christmas celebration of the Cosmic Centre. "What a funny name," said Channing. "Sounds like a small village in New England." "So it does," returned Sam Blaney, taking the jest in good part. "But we call our club that modest little name because we think ourselves the centre of the Universe." "I always admire self-respect," said Mr. Fairfield, smiling; "I hold that a man or a club with full appreciation of self-merit can't go far wrong." "And Cosmic Centre is so very expressive," said Channing. "I don't see how you could have well found anything more inclusive." "Mrs. Fairfield calls you the Cosmickers," put in Patty, smiling at Nan. "And a very good name," agreed Alla. "Cosmickers sounds a bit like picknickers, and often that's what we are." "What is your real end and aim?" asked Mr. Fairfield, seriously. "Advancement of beauty and appreciation of art," replied Alla, looking thoughtful and a little affected. "Interpretation of beauty," amended her brother. "We endeavour to imbue our souls with the highest and best emotions and to discard and disown all that is merely conventional and formal in life or in thought." "Meaning the outward and ordinary signs of clothes and manners?" said Chick. Patty detected the chaffing note in his voice, but his tone was grave and respectful, and after a quick glance at him, Blaney replied, "Yes, and the inner graces of poesy and music of the soul." "In fact, you use your soul instead of your mind or brain," Chick continued, and now Patty gave him an imploring glance, meant to beg him not to guy the Cosmic principles.