Herbert had jotted down several names, which he submitted to his mother, and among them were those of two Sheldon girls in the country, who, he said, were good dancers and ought to be invited. Mrs. White shook her head. She did not know the Sheldons. She had already exceeded the limit set at first to her invitations, and had drawn the line on all country people except the Gibsons, whose son had called on Fred, with whom he had been in college. The Sheldons were thrown into the wastepaper basket, with others who had preceded them, and Mr. and Mrs. and Miss Grey were next suggested. “Certainly not,” his mother said, more decidedly than she had to the Sheldons. “I scarcely know Mrs. Grey, and have never been in her house, nor has she been here, and your father has a strong dislike to Mr. Grey.” “Better say ‘unreasonable prejudice.’ It’s nothing but that,” Herbert answered hotly. “Father has treated them like dogs, and people know it. Why, Mr. Grey is by far the finest-looking man in town, and Mrs. Grey is a lady, and Louie is a——” Here he stopped, for Fred Lansing just then entered the room, and hearing the last words and seeing Herbert’s flushed face, said laughingly: “Louie is a what? and who is Louie? Oh, I know; she is that pretty, bright-eyed girl I have seen two or three times riding her wheel like the wind. Is she to be one of the guests? I hope so.” “Yes, she is,” Herbert answered emphatically, “and she has a wonderful voice. Maybe we can get a song from her. I am writing the names now—Mr. and Mrs. Grey. He is in the bank, you know, next to ours. You can help put the cards in the envelopes, if you want to do something.” Herbert was in a hurry to get the Greys settled before any further demur from his mother. _They_ should be invited anyway, and he wrote the addresses and passed the envelopes to his cousin, who put in the cards of invitation and dropped them into the basket with others ready to be delivered. Mrs. White did not care for a controversy before Fred, and said nothing, thinking she would remove the envelopes before the basket went out. But she forgot it; and when, next morning, David went his rounds with the invitations, two were left at Mr. Grey’s. “Oh, mamma! Look! Invitations for us all, and you have not called, either,” Louie cried, taking out one of the cards and reading that Mr. and Mrs. White would be at home Thursday evening, June —, from eight to twelve. She was greatly excited, for she had thought a good deal of the party, of which so much was being said in town, but her mother’s decided “We shall decline” dampened her spirits at once. There was a storm of tears, under which Mrs. Grey might have given way but for her husband, who, when consulted, was more decided than his wife, and the regrets of the three were sent to the White house on the day preceding the party, bringing Herbert at once to the Greys with inquiries as to the reason why Louie, at least, could not come, even if her parents stayed away.