Huddesley, after a moment's puzzled silence, so far forgot his usually impeccable manners as to utter a queer unpleasant sound between a sneer and a laugh. "Me?" said he. "Not much. Think I'd be roped in by any such con game as that? I guess _not_--bet your bottom dollar!" He caught the doctor's startled look, and faltered. "Hi--Hi 'ope you'll hexcuse me, sir," he said in genuine and very alarmed confusion; "Hi 'ear so much rough talk sometimes, Hi can't 'elp picking it hup----" "Never mind," said Doctor Vardaman kindly. "I thought you were too shrewd a man and had seen too much of the world to--to be taken in, as you say. I should be sorry to think of your losing money--especially through over-confidence in--in any friend of mine. I wouldn't like to feel that you were influenced in that way," the old gentleman concluded rather sadly. The servant eyed his downcast face with an unfathomable expression. He fumbled with the door-knob; then he cleared his throat and spoke with something of an effort. "You're mighty kind to me, Doctor Vardaman," he said huskily. "You treat me mighty white--and I won't forget it." It was the second time within the hour that Doctor Vardaman had received this agreeable assurance. "'Mighty white,'" he quoted to himself, almost smiling, as the door closed. "I'm afraid Huddesley is becoming Americanised." CHAPTER SIXTEEN Among the forgotten fashions of the years from eighteen-eighty to eighty-five was that of giving our parties, evening or afternoon, for young people or old, of whatever kind, in short, in our own homes; the easy hospitality of clubs or fashionable hotels was not yet known. Houses with double-parlours and a dining-room back were considered ideal for any sort of entertainment; and, of course, such an architectural triumph as the old Gwynne house with that splendid ballroom on the third floor, was _hors concours_. There was not another home in town to compare with it. Mrs. Pallinder could entertain without disturbing a single piece of the peacock-blue and old-gold furniture; she meant, however, to have the whole place floor-clothed the night of the twelfth. "I can't risk my Moquette carpets with a mob of young people tearing around all over the house, you know, my dear," she said with a smiling pretence of severity; and her guests, eying the rich scrolls and garlands underfoot, gravely acquiesced. Everywhere else, all the movables, except the bookcases and piano, were marshalled upstairs or out on the back porch. The little sofas in our parlours generally went into retirement under the stairs at the rear end of the hall. In the afternoons we were just beginning to have progressive euchres, and what we actually called "high teas." It is doubtless impossible for the mind of to-day to conceive of a society so devoid of education and good taste as to call any species of entertainment a "high tea," but such is the appalling fact. You may pick up a