Her friend had finished the first part of his supper, and placing his knife and fork together, leaned back, looking at her and smiling to himself. She saw the empty plate, and rising, bent across the table and swept it and the other dishes on to her tray with an air of professional expertness. As she came back with the dessert the last diner thumped across the wooden floor in noisy exit. The plate that she set before the Colonel displayed a large slab of pie. A breakfast cup of coffee went with it. He looked at them with an undismayed eye, remarking: “Who’s coming to the party? I’ll bet a new hat Barney Sullivan will be here--the first man on deck, and the last to quit the pumps. But I don’t suppose the Gracey boys will show up.” “Yes, they will--both of ’em.” “What, Black Dan? Black Dan Gracey doesn’t go to parties.” “Well, he don’t generally. But he’s goin’ to this one. His daughter, Mercedes, is here, that sort er spidery Spanish girl, and he’s goin’ for her.” Mitty, having seen that her guest had all that in Foleys made up the last course of a complete and satisfactory supper, went round and took her seat at the opposite side of the table. As she spoke he noticed a change in her voice. Now, as he saw her face, he noticed a change in it, too. There was a withdrawal of joy and sparkle. She looked sullen, almost mournful. “Black Dan Gracey’s daughter here?” he queried. “What’s she doing so far afield? The last I heard of her she was in school in San Francisco.” “So she was until two days ago. Then some kind er sickness broke out in the school, and her paw went down to bring her up here. She was so precious she couldn’t come up from San Francisco alone. She had to be brung all the way like she was made of gold and people was tryin’ to steal her. They stopped here for dinner on their way up. I seen her.” “She promises to be very pretty,” said the Colonel absently. “They say Gracey worships her.” “Pretty!” echoed Mitty in a very flat voice. “I don’t see what makes her so dreadful pretty. Little black thing! And anybody’d be pretty all togged up that way. She’d diamond ear-rings on, real ones, big diamonds like that.” She held out the tip of her little finger, nipped between her third and thumb. “I guess that makes a difference,” she said emphatically, looking at him with a pair of eyes which tried to be defiant, but were really full of forlorn appeal. “Of course it makes a difference,” said the Colonel cheeringly, without knowing in the least what he meant, “a great difference.”