"What do you mean by that?" he demanded. "Are you joshing me?" "No, honest. That New Year's eve with the blizzard raging outside, and that bright crowded hall, and all you boys just home from France. Do you remember the big blue parrots that swung in hoops from the chandeliers? And that wonderful saxophone and the big bass drum!" "Then it isn't _me_ that you remember? Just a darned old parrot hanging on a hoop, and a saxophone and a drum!" "You silly! Of course it's you too! I remember every single thing you told me, and how terribly thrilled I was. This afternoon brought it all back. I shall never forget this, either. Not as long as I live!" She started to put out her hand; but, seeing the look in Quin's eyes, she reconsidered and opened the door instead. "So long," she said casually. "I'll probably see you sometime next week. In the meanwhile I'll be good to granny!" CHAPTER 22 When Eleanor reached the Country Club on Friday night, she found a box of flowers waiting for her in the dressing-room. It was the second box she had received that day. The first bore the conspicuous label, "Wear-Well Shoes," and contained a bunch of wild evening primroses wrapped in wet moss. With this more sophisticated floral offering was a sealed note which she opened eagerly: _Mademoiselle Beaux Yeux_--[she read]: Save all the dances after the intermission for me. I will reach L. at nine-thirty, get out to the club for a couple of hours with you, and catch the midnight express back to Chicago. Pin my blossoms close to your heart, and bid it heed what they whisper. H. P. Eleanor read the note twice, conscious of the fact that a dozen envious eyes were watching her. She considered this quite the most romantic thing that had happened to her. For a man like Mr. Phipps to travel sixteen hours out of the twenty-four just to dance with her was a triumph indeed. It made her think of her old friend Joseph, in the Bret Harte poem, who Swam the Elk's creek and all that, Just to dance with old Folingsbee's daughter, The Lily of Poverty Flat. Not that Eleanor felt in the least humble. She had never felt so proud in her life as she smiled a little superior smile and slipped the note in her bosom. "Not orchids!" exclaimed Kitty Mason, poking an inquisitive finger under the waxed paper. "Why not?" Eleanor asked nonchalantly. "They are my favorite flowers." "But I thought the orchid king was in Chicago?" "He is--that is, he was. He's probably on the train now. I have just had a note saying he was running down for the dance and would go back to-night." The news had the desired effect. Six noses, which were being vigorously powdered, were neglected while their owners burst forth in a chorus of exclamations sufficiently charged with envious admiration to satisfy the most rapacious debutante.