He sat at Ruth's left hand, Stone being in the seat of the honor guest, and as that left me between the two sisters, I was doomed to participate in their chatter. But I was opposite my hostess and could enjoy looking at her in the intervals of conversation. Suddenly, I chanced to look up and I saw Fibsy's comical little face drawn with grimaces as he sang a snatch of a popular song. My heart goes twirly-whirly When I see my pearlie girlie, With her-- "Now, what is that next line? With her--?" "With her ring-around-a-rosy curls!" supplemented Ruth, her own face breaking into laughter, as, caught by the infection of Fibsy's waggish gayety, she rounded out the phrase. "Yes, that's it," said Fibsy, eagerly, "and Her teeth like little shining pearls, Oh, she's my queen of all the girls, My little twirly-whirly, pearlie Girlie!" Ruth and Fibsy finished the silly little song in concert, and Stone clapped his hands in applause. Rhoda sniffed and Sarah acidly remarked: "How can you, Ruth? I wish you'd be a little more dignified." Quickly the light went out of Ruth's eyes. She looked reproved, and though she didn't resent it, a patient sadness came into her eyes, and I resolved that I would do all I could to get it arranged that she should live apart from the two carping, criticizing sisters. After dinner we had coffee in the library. Again, Fleming Stone took it upon himself to entertain the Misses Schuyler, and I drifted toward Ruth. She sat down on a sofa and motioned Fibsy to sit beside her. I drew a chair up to them and thanked a kind fate that let us all leave the table at once, dispensing with a more formal tarrying of the men. After the coffee there were liqueurs. I glanced at Fibsy to see if he accepted a tiny glass from the butler's tray. He did, and, moreover, he examined the contents with the air of a connoisseur. "Oo de vee de Dantzic," he remarked, holding up his glass and gazing at the gold flecks in it. We all smiled at him. "Your favorite cordial, Terence?" asked Stone, affably. "Yessir. Don't you love it, Mrs. Schuyler?" "Yes," she said, and then, "why, no, I don't love it, child. But one gets accustomed to something of the sort." "But don't you like it better than Cream de mint or Benediction?" he persisted. Ruth laughed outright. "How do you know those names, you funny boy," she said. "Read 'em on the big signboards," he returned. "They have the biggest billboards in New York for one of these lickures. I forget which one." "These are what I like," said Ruth, smiling, as the footman passed a small bowl of sugared rose-leaves and crisp green candied mint leaves. "Take some, Terence. They're better for you than liqueurs. Help yourself." "They are good," and Fibsy obeyed her. "They taste like goin' into a florist's shop." "So they do," agreed Ruth, herself taking a goodly portion. "Rubbish," said Rhoda. "I think these things are silly. Randolph would never allow them."