While Justine was trying to frame excuses for not attending the party, Mrs. Harbaugh was just as earnestly explaining that "bad weather," "sickness," "unforeseen acts of Providence," and a lot of other emergencies might necessitate a postponement, but, in case nothing happened to prevent, the "sociable" would take place on "Friday night a week." Mrs. Grimes came in while the discussion was still on. When she was told of Mrs. Harbaugh's plan to entertain the "best people in the neighborhood," Mrs. Grimes made a remark that promptly decided the giving of the party. "My sakes, Mrs. Harbaugh, how c'n you afford it? We couldn't, I know, an' I guess Martin's 'bout as well off as the next one 'round about here," she said superciliously. Mrs. Harbaugh bridled. "Oh, I guess we c'n afford it an' more, too, Mrs. Grimes, if we'd a mind to. I know that most people 'bout here is mighty hard up, but who's to give these pleasant little entertainments unless it's them that's in good circumstances? That's the way Mr. Harbaugh an' me feels about it." Mrs. Harbaugh was hopelessly committed to the "sociable." Other women came in and they soon were in a great flutter of excitement over the coming event. Justine was amazed by this exhibition of interest and friendship on the part of her rich neighbors. She did not understand the significant smiles that went among the visitors as each new arrival swelled the crowd in the "front room." The look of surprise that marked each face on entering the room was succeeded almost instantly by one best described as "sheepish." Not a woman there but felt herself ashamed to be caught in the act of obeying 'Gene Crawley's injunction so speedily. Bewildered, Justine promised to attend the "sociable." The meaning expressed in the sly glances, smirks, and poorly concealed sniffs escaped her notice. She did not know what every one else knew perfectly well--that Mrs. Harbaugh's party was a peace-offering--and a sacrifice that almost drew blood from the calloused heart of the "chairman." That evening she told 'Gene of the visitation from the "high an' mighty" (as Crawley termed the Clay "aristocrats"), and she made no effort to conceal her distress. "How can I go to the party, 'Gene?" she said in despair. "I have nothing to wear--absolutely nothing----" "Now, that's the woman all over," scoffed Crawley, resorting to badinage. "I wouldn't let that worry me, Justine. Go ahead an' have a good time. The clothes you've got are a heap sight more becomin' th'n the fine feathers them hens wear. Lord 'a' mercy, I think they're sights!" "But, 'Gene, it's the first time any one of them has been to see me in months," she protested, dimly conscious of distrust. "Well, I--I guess they've been purty busy," said he, lamely. Crawley was a poor dissembler. "Besides, I don't care to go. Jud isn't here, and--and, oh, I can't see how it could give me any pleasure."