Evening came at last, although Nancy had moments of feeling sure that it never would. Jane, her curly auburn locks tied up in charming fashion, with various rebellious tendrils waving about her face, slipped into the pretty frock, and Mrs. Bell arranged the primrose girdle, which set off the whole effect. Peter, in his best black suit and wearing the new cravat, looked at his sister approvingly. "My, but I ’m proud of my girl!" he said. "Not prouder than I am of my big brother," responded Jane. The family saw them off, rejoicing in their youthful good looks, and sure they would hold their own in appearance with anybody in Worthington Square. Peter and Jane, not feeling quite so confident, yet experiencing a pleasant stir of anticipation, walked slowly round the corner. Nearly all the guests were arriving in carriages, and the brother and sister, as they crossed the porch, encountered a number of these, entering from the _porte-cochère_. As Jane’s eyes fell upon the gaily dressed young people, the first thing she observed about them gave her an unpleasant shock. They all, youths and girls, were wearing gloves. Jane glanced from her own round white arms, bare from the elbows, to Peter’s uncovered hands. "Peter, we never once thought of gloves," she murmured in his ear, as they lingered to let the party from the carriages go in at the door ahead of them. Peter stared from her to the other guests. Then his gay twinkle replaced the look of dismay. "Gloves--on youngsters like us! Don’t you care a bit," he whispered back in her ear. It was a little difficult not to care, especially for Jane, as in the dressing-room upstairs she met many curious glances. The maid in charge even offered to help her put on her gloves, and Jane could not help feeling a bit unhappy as she replied that she was not wearing gloves. But the sight of Peter, smiling serenely at her from the head of the staircase, where he awaited her, strengthened her resolution not to mind. A glance at the mirror had assured her that the inexpensive little dimity with its primrose ribbons was irreproachable in its dainty distinction of style--thanks to Mrs. Bell’s clever fingers--and this knowledge was very comforting. Her face was as bright as ever when she joined Peter, whose hearty whisper: "You ’re all right!" put her quite on her feet again. Downstairs, where Olive Townsend stood receiving with her mother, with Forrest and Murray close at hand, a brief but interesting colloquy took place just before Jane and Peter came into the reception room. Forrest had been keeping sharp watch on the hall entrance, and the moment that he saw the two Bells arrive and make their way toward the staircase, he watched for a chance to get a word in the ears of his family. A lull in the arrivals gave him his opportunity.