If a bride were being dressed, there couldn’t have been more excitement in a home than there was in the little flat on Saturday night, when Howard prepared to go to the dance. Marjorie had laid all his things out on his bed during the afternoon. His suit nicely cleaned and pressed, a beautifully laundered shirt, his tie, collar, handkerchief—everything was ready. “Why, mother,” he laughed, as she bustled about, handing him his things. “I feel like a girl getting ready for my first party! I really believe you’re enjoying all this.” “I am, dear,” she answered, her cheeks bright with excitement. “Well, I’m ready.” He stepped back from the mirror. “Do I look all right?” “I never saw anyone like you!” She clasped her hands and looked at him adoringly. “All the girls will be fighting over you! You’re so handsome, dear.” “Mother, you’re a little flatterer.” He caught her up in his strong arms to dance about the room with her. “Oh, please, dear—please don’t!” she screamed. Her face paled, and she held her hand to her side. “Why, mother—you’re ill! What’s wrong with you?” He placed her gently on the bed and knelt beside her. “It’s—it’s—nothing, dear.” She forced a smile to her lips. “But you screamed with pain—and you’re so white. I’m going to call a doctor.” “No—no—I won’t allow you to be so foolish. I—I’m perfectly all right, dear. You picked me up so suddenly and you’re so big and strong. It was just a stitch in my side. See, it’s entirely gone now.” She sat up on the edge of the bed. “Just the same,” he said resolutely, “I’m not going! I wouldn’t think of leaving you alone.” “But you are going, dear—I insist upon it. There’s not a thing in the world the matter with me, but if you stayed at home, you’d make me think I was really ill.” For ten minutes she argued until he was finally persuaded to go. At the door she kissed him affectionately. “Good-night, darling! Have a wonderful time and don’t worry for a minute—I’m perfectly well.” She never knew how she managed to reach her bed. For half an hour she suffered the agony of death until the spasm passed. But Howard Benton went to his first dance in two years with a heavy heart. In spite of his mother’s repeated assurances that she was perfectly well, he could not get her white, drawn face out of his mind. Once or twice he was inclined to turn back, but the fear of aggravating her prevented him. At all events, he would insist upon her seeing a doctor to-morrow. When he arrived at the Hall about nine-thirty, the dance was well under way. He felt strange and ill at ease. The crowd was so entirely different from the crowd in which he had mingled in the old days. Outside of a few of the boys from the office, he didn’t know a soul. But it didn’t take him very long to become acquainted. He was a good dancer, handsome, and a gentleman—three things always bound to attract young women in whatever station of life.