"Not even yet; and it's been a year!... As I was about to say, though, I recall distinctly. I remember I had a perfectly delightful time--listening to the others' conversation. Likewise dancing--with myself in a shadowy corner. Also eating lunch--with myself later. I had ample time to think--and I decided eventually that there'd been a slight mistake somehow when my name got on the list.... I liked the house, though, very much; so much that I decided to buy it sometime--at a nominal figure. I didn't feel peculiarly generous that night when I made the decision.... Last of all, I recall I met a girl; rather young then, but rather pleasant also, I thought. She talked to me for an entire minute. I know because I held my breath the while, and that's my limit. She was the only one who apparently did see me that night, though. Perhaps her being rather young was why." The voice ceased. The speaker looked at the listener. Simultaneously the listener looked at the speaker. They smiled, companionably, understandingly. "That's all, I believe, I have to impart concerning December the sixth, all concerning the celebration. That is--" of a sudden the bantering voice was serious and low--"that is, unless there's something more you'd like to know." The girl was busy with the clover again, very busy. "I think you've told me all there is to tell," she said steadily. "I understand." Darley Roberts waited; but that was all. "Very well." The voice was normal again, tolerant, non-committal. "It's your turn, then. I fear I'm becoming positively loquacious. I monopolize the conversation. Let's hear your report since--Thanksgiving, I believe,--the last time I heard it." For some reason the girl lost interest in her work. At least there seemed less need of immediate haste. She rolled the silks and the linen together with a little unconscious sigh of relief. "Since Thanksgiving," she said, "I've cooked eighteen meals for father and myself. I've been out of town once, coached two thick heads twice each, attended one bridge party--or was it five hundred? I believe that's all." "Not had a call from Miss Simpson?" smilingly. "How did you know?" "I don't know. I asked you." "Yes; Agnes called--of course." "What report of your friends the Randalls, then?" "Shame on you--really." "No. I didn't mean it that way--really. You know it. I'm interested because you are. How are things coming on with them?" The girl fingered the roll in her lap absently. "Badly, I'm afraid. Margery's gone to Chicago to visit her cousin, and shop. She can't seem to realize--or won't. I went over and baked some things for Harry yesterday. He's dismissed the maid they had and the place looks as cheerful as a barn. I didn't even see him." "You noticed the house, though, doubtless. Much new furniture about?" "Yes, for the dining-room; a complete new suite, sideboard and all, in weathered oak. It's dear.... How in the world did you know, though?"