To this big healthy product of Southern Wisconsin the year's-end meant but one thing. He was invited to supper and a New Year's Eve celebration at Maxine Larabee's home, and he was determined to create the right impression in the household of Brailsford Junction's leading attorney. There was little doubt that he was correctly attired, his table manners would pass muster--though he must remember not to tuck his napkin in his vest--and he had learned by rote what he was going to say when he spoke to Attorney Larabee about marrying Maxine. Nevertheless the big fellow trembled as he was admitted into the magnificence of the Larabee home with its golden-oak mission furniture, its wilton carpets and its beaded portieres. Mrs. Larabee descended upon him plump, pink, and gushing. Maxine laughed musically as she gave him her hand, but Attorney Larabee merely grunted a hello from behind his paper and rolled his cigar into the other corner of his mouth. Peter felt depressed. Despite Maxine's rendition (at her mother's request) of "Too Much Mustard," and "I've Got a Pain in My Sawdust," with other instrumental and vocal numbers. Despite comic postcards showing vegetables the size of freight cars, Fords no larger than insects, and the romantic series by Harrison Fisher entitled "Six Periods in a Girl's Life." Despite such notable diversions as a Chinese puzzle and a set of views showing the Grand Cañon in its actual colors-- Peter felt depressed. Supper was served at last. After the blessing, soup was ladled from a tureen embossed with lilacs into soup bowls of the same design. And with the soup came the deluge: "I understand you want to marry my daughter," boomed Mr. Larabee. "Well, yes, sir," Peter admitted, looking into the green, viscous liquid in his bowl and feeling ill. "Are you prepared to support her in the manner to which...." "Now, Charles," said Mrs. Larabee, "you were as poor as a church mouse when you asked me." "Mother!" said the stern head of the house, "I will take care of this." Mrs. Larabee slipped back into the soft and matronly sea of pink chiffon from which she had momentarily arisen. "I suppose you realize," said Attorney Larabee, "that Maxine comes from one of Brailsford Junction's first families...." "They named the town after a Brailsford," blurted Peter. "My dad's the biggest stock breeder in Rock County. And I've got the best chance in the world to be a great inventor or something.... And, well, anyhow I love her," he finished weakly. "Hmmm, hmmm," said Mr. Larabee. "I shall have to think about it."