"Nonsense, Burke! Don't be silly. Of course--we're going! I wouldn't miss it for the world--under the circumstances." And Helen, with an air of finality, rose to her feet to prepare for bed. Her husband, looking after her with eyes that were half resigned, half rebellious, for the second time that evening gave a sigh of utter weariness, and turned away. They went to the dinner. Helen became really very interested and enthusiastic in her preparations for it; and even Burke, after a time, seemed to regain a little of his old eagerness. They had, to be sure, nearly a quarrel over the dress and hat that Helen wished to wear. But after some argument, and not a few tears, she yielded to her husband's none too gently expressed abhorrence of the hat in question (which was a new one), and of the dress--one he had always disliked. "But I wanted to make a good impression," pouted Helen. "Exactly! So do I want you to," returned her husband significantly. And there the matter ended. It was not a success--that dinner. Helen, intent on making her "good impression," very plainly tried to be admiring, entertaining, and solicitous of her host's welfare and happiness. She resulted in being nauseatingly flattering, pert, and inquisitive. John Denby, at first very evidently determined to give no just cause for criticism of his own behavior, was the perfection of courtesy and cordiality. Even when, later, he was unable quite to hide his annoyance at the persistent and assiduous attentions and questions of his daughter-in-law, he was yet courteous, though in unmistakable retreat. Burke Denby--poor Burke! With every sense and sensitiveness keyed to instant response to each tone and word and gesture of the two before him, each passing minute was, to Burke, but a greater torture than the one preceding it. Long before dinner was over, he wished himself and Helen at home; and as soon as was decently possible after the meal, he peremptorily suggested departure. "I couldn't stand it! I couldn't stand it another minute," he told himself passionately, as he hurried Helen down the long elm-shaded walk leading to the street. "But dad--dad was a brick! And he asked us to come again. _Again!_ Good Heavens! As if I'd go through that again! It was so much worse _there_ than at home. But I'm glad he didn't put her in mother's chair. I don't think even I could have stood that--to-day!" "Well, that's over," murmured Helen complacently, as they turned into the public sidewalk,--"and well over! Still, I didn't enjoy myself so very much, and I don't believe you did, either," she laughed, "else you wouldn't have been in such a taking to get away." There was no answer. Helen, however, evidently sure of her ground, did not seem to notice. She yawned pleasantly. "Guess I'm sleepy. Ate too much. _'Twas_ a good dinner; and, just as I told your father, things always taste especially good when you don't get much at home. I said it on purpose. I thought maybe 'twould make him think."