"It won't be the first funny thing you've asked me, Terence. What is it?" "Well, it's pretty near eatin' time, an'--aw, pshaw, I jest can't dare to say it." "Go ahead, old chap, I can't do more than annihilate you." "Well, I wanna go to the Schuylerses to dinner." "To dinner!" "Yes, sir. An' not to the kitchen eats, neither. I wanta set up to their gran' table with their butlerses an' feetmen, an' be a nonnerd guest. Kin I, Mr. Stone? Say, kinni?" Fleming Stone looked at the eager, flushed face. He knew and I did, too, that there was something back of this request. But it couldn't be anything of vital importance to our mystery. "Oh, I understand," said Stone, suddenly. "You've taken a desperate fancy to Mrs. Schuyler and you want to further the acquaintance. But it isn't often done that way, my boy." "Aw, now, don't kid me, Mr. Stone. Either lemme go or shut down on it, one o' the six! But it's most nessary, I do assure you." "Maybe she won't have you. Why should those grand ladies allow a boy of your age at their dinner-table?" "Because you ask 'em, sir." Fibsy's tone was full of a quiet dignity. "Very well, I'll ask them," and Stone went away to the telephone. Fibsy stood, looking raptly at the gold gown, and now and then his eyes turned toward the knife on the dressing-table. The table was covered with silver toilet implements, and save for its unfitting suggestion, the knife was unnoticeable among the other trinkets. "It's all right," said Stone, returning. "Mrs. Schuyler sends a cordial invitation for all three of us to dine with her." "Much obliged, I'll be there," said Fibsy, unsmilingly. CHAPTER XVIII FIBSY DINES OUT That dinner at Ruth Schuyler's was memorable. And, yet, it was in no way markedly unusual. The service was perfect, as might be expected in that well-ordered household, and the guests were well behaved. Fibsy, thanks to Fleming Stone's thoughtful kindness, was arrayed in the proper dinner garb of a schoolboy, and his immaculate linen and correct jacket seemed to invest him in a mantle of politeness that sat well on his youthful buoyancy and enthusiasm. I glanced round the table. It was a strange combination of people. Fleming Stone was the sort of man who is at ease anywhere, and I, too, am adaptable by nature. But the Schuyler sisters were very evidently annoyed at the idea of receiving as an equal the youth whom they regarded as a mere street arab. Fibsy had become a firm friend of Ruth's, but he couldn't seem to like the other ladies, and he with difficulty refrained from showing this. The Misses Schuyler were impressive in their heavy and elaborate mourning, and to my mind Ruth looked far more appropriately dressed.