Carey came, dazed, but polite. He was well dressed and groomed, and he knew it. He had no objection to meeting a pleasant stranger who owned a car like the one he had seen drive up at the door before he had left his room. Carey had a habit of judging a man by his car. The two young men appraised each other pleasantly, and there seemed to be a mutual liking. Then suddenly Brand Barlock, never allowing himself long to be left out of consideration, came noisily over to the group, and slapped Carey on the back. “Hello, old man! Got a birthday, have you?” “Oh, hello, Brand! Forgot you were here. Saw your car out the window. Meet Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Barlock,” and the two acknowledged the introduction. “My father, Brand.” Mr. Copley spoke graciously to the young man, yet with a degree of dignity, looking him over speculatively. This was not the kind of young man he would choose for his son’s intimate; yet he regarded him with leniency. Suddenly Carey turned and saw Grace Kendall. “Oh, I say, Miss Kendall! This is awfully good of you.” He took a step, and shook hands with her. “Say, this is a real party, after all, isn’t it? A surprise party. Upon my word I thought Cornelia was kidding me when she said we were going to have a birthday party.” Grace Kendall laughed, and clapped her hands, and all the rest followed her example. In the din of laughter and clapping Carey suddenly sighted Clytie glowering back by the fireplace, and a wave of panic swept over his face. He turned startled eyes on his sister and father, and stood back while Cornelia introduced their guests to Maxwell and her father. He wondered how she could say “Miss Dodd” so easily, and how she had got acquainted with Clytie. His cheeks began to burn. Then she must have seen him that day on Chestnut Street, after all. And Louise had talked too! And yet his sister’s face was sweet and innocent! Then he became aware that an appeal was being made to him to keep the young stranger to dinner and that the stranger was protesting that he could not thrust himself on a birthday party in this way. Carey roused to the occasion, and gave an eager invitation. “Of course you’re going to stay to my party!” But even as he said it he wondered what a man of Maxwell’s evident type would think of a girl like Clytie. Oh, if only she weren’t here! And Grace Kendall! What must she think? He stole a look at her, standing there so gracefully in that blue dress like a cloud, talking to Brand. What business did Brand have looking at her like that as if he had known her always? Now Brand would rush her. Carey could see that Brand liked her. He always rushed a girl he took a notion to. He would take her out riding in that car of his, and— But everybody was talking now, and Cornelia had called upon him to bring in the box of ferns. She herself had suddenly disappeared into the kitchen, and was standing against the closed door, pressing her hand against her forehead and trying to think.