However, no one seemed to think that there was anything seriously amiss except Sallie, who is a human barometer when she has guests. She knows by instinct when they are or are not being entertained. Nor was her tact at fault in seating the people, for I was the only one laden with almost unbearable knowledge, and I fell asleep that night thinking that possibly the situation was not so unusual as it appeared to me. I dare say plenty of dinners are given with just as many unsuspected trap-doors to sensationalism. X THE PATHOS OF FAITH "To him who is shod the whole world is covered with leather." The next afternoon I was resting and thinking over the brilliancy of the Payson Osborne entertainment, when Sallie came in, dressed from head to foot in black. There was not a suspicion of white at wrist or throat. I was too startled to ask a question until her burst of laughter relieved me. "You poor thing!" she cried, "did I frighten you? But I _am_ in mourning; yes, truly, for my dinner-party. Ruth, Ruth, what was the matter with it?" "Why, nothing. It was exquisitely served, and oh, Sallie, your lawn fete and the cotillon were beautiful. They were perfect. Truly, you do give the most successful entertainments in town." "Certainly--why shouldn't I," said Sallie sharply, "when I have never done anything, _anything_ all my life but go to parties and study how to give them? Oh, Ruth, dear, I do get so tired of it all. But," taking on a brisker tone, "all the more reason why I should never give such a sad affair as that dinner. That dinner, Ruth, was what Brian Beck calls a howling failure. Payson never criticises anything that I do, but even he came to me quite gingerly this morning, after I had read what the papers had to say about it, and said, 'My dear child, what was the matter with your tea-party?' Now, let us admit the success of the other two, and weep a little in a friendly way over the 'tea-party.'" "I had a lovely time--" I began, but Sallie interrupted me. "Hypocrite!" she cried vehemently. "You know you didn't. Your eyes were as big as turkey platters with apprehension." "My dear Sallie," I expostulated. "Don't you dare put on airs with me, then," she said mutinously. "Now, what ailed them all? It couldn't have been the advent of the Mayos. I've launched more ticklish craft than they. Nor could it have been that abominable Brian Beck, who would spoil Paradise and be the utter ruin of a respectable funeral. Every one seemed to conspire to make my dinner a failure." "Oh, Sallie, I think Percival especially exerted himself. He was in his most exquisite mood."