Of course the reproach tautened her courage; "I do! I do! But--" "Then never say such a wicked, cruel thing again!" It was when Bingo had been left with Mrs. O'Brien that, on their way back to the hotel, Maurice, in a burst of enthusiasm, invited his third bad moment: "I am going to have a rattling old dinner party to celebrate your escape from the hag! How about Saturday night?" She protested that he was awfully extravagant; but she cheered up. After all, what difference did it make what a person like Auntie thought! "But who will you ask?" she said. "I suppose you don't know any men here? And I don't, either." He admitted that he had only two or three acquaintances in Mercer--"but I have a lot in Philadelphia. You shan't live on a desert island, Nelly!" "Ah, but I'd like to--_with you_! I don't want anyone but you, in the world," she said, softly. He thrilled at the wonder of that: she would be contented, _with him_,--on a desert island! Oh, if he could only always be enough for her! He vowed to himself, in sudden boyish solemnity, that he _would_ always be enough for her. Aloud, he said he thought he could scratch up two or three fellows. Then Eleanor's apprehension spoke: "What _will_ Mr. Houghton say?" "Oh, he's all right," Maurice said, resolutely hiding his own apprehension. He could hide it, but he could not forget it. Even while arranging for his dinner party, and plunging into the expense of a private dining room, he was thinking, of his guardian; "Will he kick?" Aloud he said, "I've asked three fellows, and you ask three girls." "I don't know many girls," she said, anxiously. "How about that girl you spoke to on the street yesterday? (If Uncle Henry could only see her, he'd be crazy about her!)" "Rose Ellis? Well, yes; but she's rather young." "Oh, that's all right," Maurice assured her. "(I wish I hadn't told him she is older than I am. Trouble with me is, I always plunk out the truth!) The fellows like 'em young," he said. Then he told her who the fellows were: "I don't know 'em very well; they're just boys; not in college. Younger than I am, except Tom Morton. Mort's twenty, and the brainiest man I know. And Hastings has a bag of jokes--well, not just for ladies," said Maurice, grinning, "and you'll like Dave Brown. You rake in three girls. We'll have a stunning spread, and then go to the theater." He caught her in his arms and romped around the room with her, then dropped her into a chair, and watched her wiping away tears of helpless laughter. "Yes--I'll rake in the girls!" she gasped. She wasn't very successful in her invitations. "I asked Rose, but I had to ask her mother, too," she said; "and one of the teachers at the Medfield school." Maurice looked doubtful. Rose was all right; but the other two? "Aren't they somewhat faded flowers?"