When first Dominick had heard of Miss Barry’s intention of giving a party for the Park people, he had decided that at all risks it should be a success. But his quarter’s allowance was, as usual (he had received it only a month ago), at death’s door, and only thirty shillings remained of it. He had at once written to his guardian saying circumstances over which he had no control—I suppose he meant his inability to refrain from buying everything his eye lit on—had made away with the sum sent last June, and he would feel immensely obliged to Sir Spencer if he could let him have a few pounds more, or even give him an advance on his next allowance. The answer had come this morning, had been opened hurriedly, but, alas! had contained, instead of the modest cheque asked for, a distinct and uncompromising ‘No.’ ‘Mean old brute!’ said Dom indignantly, referring, I regret to say, to his uncle. ‘I wrote to him for a bare fiver, and the old beast refuses to part. Never mind, Susan! We’ll have our spread just the same. I’ve thirty shillings to the good still, and that’ll get us all we want.’ ‘No, indeed, Dom,’ said Susan, flushing. ‘You mustn’t spend your last penny like that. We’ll do very well as we are, with auntie’s cakes.’ ‘We must have fruit,’ said Mr. Fitzgerald with determination. ‘Do you remember all those grapes yesterday, and the late peaches and things?’ Indeed they had had a most heavenly day yesterday—a distinctly rollicking day—in the woods, and had played hide and seek afterwards amongst the shrubberies, at which noble game Lady Forster and Miss Forbes had quite distinguished themselves, the latter beating Dom all to nothing in the dodging line, and reaching the goal every time without being caught. It had been altogether a splendid romp, and the Barrys had come home flushed and happy, and with so much to tell their aunt that their words tumbled over each other, and were hard to put together in any consecutive way. I think Aunt Jemima was a little shocked when Betty told her that Lady Forster had called Carew ‘a rowdy-dowdy boy,’ but she fortified herself with the thought that no doubt the world had changed a good deal since she was a girl—as no doubt it had. Any way, the children were delighted, and Dominick felt that nothing they could do for the Park people, and especially for that jolly Miss Forbes, could be good enough. ‘We must have some grapes,’ said he, ‘and even if it is to be my last penny, Susan, I am sure I can depend on you to patch up my old breeches so as to carry me with decency, if not with elegance, through the next two months.’ ‘But, Dom—I really don’t think you should——’ ‘Never mind her,’ Betty had said promptly here—Betty, who is devoid of any sort of false shame, and looks upon Dom as a possession; ‘of course we must have fruit.’ ‘And those little cakes at Ricketty’s, with chocolate on them. Put on your hat, Betty, and come down town with me, and we’ll astonish the natives yet!’