“I know,” said the little girl wisely. “When Clytie danced, you mean. That was awful, wasn’t it? Father looked—just—sick for a minute, didn’t he? Poor daddy, he didn’t understand. And he doesn’t like dancing. And I thought for just a minute how awful mother would feel. She doesn’t like it either. And that girl—she was so—awful! But my! I’m glad it’s over, aren’t you, Nellie? And say! There they come! There’s enough water-ice for everybody to have some more. Shall we have it? My isn’t this fun?” They all came in, and frolicked through the dishes, Brand and Maxwell entering into it with spirit. Brand didn’t do much helping; but he made a show at it, and he certainly enjoyed the angel cake and water-ice, which was most thoroughly “finished” that night. Even the father came out into the kitchen, and watched the fun, and talked with Maxwell, who was flourishing a dish-towel and polishing glasses as if he had always done it. Harry and Maxwell grew very chummy, and Maxwell declared that he was under deep obligation to the boy for his supper. “How about it, Mr. Copley? Will you let this boy take a trip with me sometime pretty soon? I’m to go after mother in a week or so now, and I’d like mighty well to have his company. I shall probably start next Friday, sometime in the afternoon, and expect to get back Monday sometime. That wouldn’t take him out of school many hours, and I think we’d have a first-rate time. Would you like it, son?” Harry’s eager face needed no words to express his joy. His eyes fairly sparkled. The young man took a business card from his pocket, and handed it to Mr. Copley. “I’m really an utter stranger to you, you know,” he said with a smile; “and I can understand how you wouldn’t want to trust your boy to a stranger. I shall consider it a favor if you will look me up; ask any of the men in my firm about me. I want you to be sure about me, because I intend to come again if you will let me. I’m not running any risk of losing such perfectly good new friends as you all are, and I want Harry for the trip.” Mr. Copley looked the young man over admiringly. “Don’t you think I can tell a _man_ when I see one?” he asked amusedly. “It’s generally written on his face, and no one can mistake.” “Thank you,” said Maxwell. “That _is_ a compliment!” After the dishes were done there were the ferns to be unboxed and admired, and it was after midnight when at last the two young men said, “Good night,” and drove away, each with the hearty assurance that he had had a wonderful time and wanted to come again soon.