A few people in the room seemed fearfully amused, and poor Mabel in an undefined manner began to feel decidedly out of it. Lance went about like a conspirator, commenting on the appearance of "the ostrich." He approached Cuthbert, asking him in an anxious manner how long the signs of rapid poisoning might be expected to take to declare themselves after a quadruple dose of walnut cake. Mr. Meredith unruffled, still handed about cups for Mabel. Jean was in a corner with her dearest friend Maud Hartley. "Isn’t it wonderful what love can do?" she remarked quite seriously. It was a curious thing that Elma, who dreamed silly dreams about far-away things, and was despised for this accordingly by the robust Jean, did not become romantic over Mr. Meredith at all. She merely thought that he must be fearfully fond of walnuts. The supper was hardly a pleasure to her--or to Betty. Every dish was an anxiety. They could almost count the plates for the different courses in their desire to know whether each had been successfully disposed of. There was no doubt about the trifle. "What a pity Mabel didn’t make it," sighed Jean. After all, Mabel had only inspired the chicken salad, and even there Dr. Harry had made the mayonnaise. "It isn’t much of a start for her with Mr. Meredith," she sighed dismally, "if only we hadn’t told anybody which was which." Mr. Meredith took a large amount of trifle, praising it considerably. This alarmed Lance more than ever. "One good thing does not destroy a bad thing," he exclaimed. "The first axiom to be learned in chemistry is that one smell does not kill another. It is a popular delusion that it does. Meredith seems to have been brought up on popular lines." He posed in front of Cuthbert with his hands in his pockets. "We are running a great risk," said he. "To-morrow morning Meredith may be saying things about your sisters which may prevent us men from being friends with him--for ever." Above the general flood of conversation, Aunt Katharine’s treble voice might now be heard. "Mabel," she said in a kind manner, "I must compliment you. When your mother told me about this ridiculous party, I told her she was spoiling you as she always does. In my young days we weren’t allowed to be extravagant and experiment in cooking whenever a party occurred. We began with the ’common round, the daily task.’" Aunt Katharine sighed heavily. "But I never knew you could make a trifle like this." Mabel had been sitting like the others, trying to subdue the merriment which Aunt Katharine’s long speeches usually aroused. The wind-up to this tirade alarmed her however. She would have to tell them all, with Mr. Meredith standing there, that the trifle was not her trifle. She would have to say that it was Betty’s. Before she could open her mouth however, the whole loyal regiment of Leightons had forestalled her. "Isn’t it a jolly trifle!" they exclaimed. Mabel could even hear Betty’s little pipe joining in.