He turned with a start. His eyes took her in from top to toe, and suddenly narrowed. "No, thanks," he said curtly. "What are _you_ doing here, anyway?" Effie May drew back. She looked, as Ellen expressed it to herself, "flabbergasted." "Why! Who do you think I am?" He continued to stare at her with those narrowed, steady eyes. "I don't know, and I don't care. It's easy enough to see _what_ you are! You'd better go, hadn't you?" suggested Archibald grimly. "This is a private affair. Invitation only." By this time the startled lady had recovered her poise. "You're making a mistake, young man," she replied quietly, "This happens to be _my_ private affair. I am Mrs. Darcy." It was his turn to be flabbergasted. "_Her mother?_" "Miss Darcy's step-mother," said Effie May, with some dignity. She continued to meet his gaze, which did not lower, though he had gone quite pale. "The joke's on me," he muttered at last. "It's I who'd better go, I guess. Pardon _me_!" She inclined her head without speaking. He still continued to look at her, as if puzzled. "My mistake," he said again. "If your husband wants me at any time, my name is Blair, Mrs. Darcy--Archibald Blair." "He won't want you," said Effie May. "Good night." Ellen Neal, aghast, watched him turn on his heel and leave. "Land!" she said to herself. "Land sakes! He's gone and done for himself now, the young idjit!" When she turned again, she saw Mrs. Darcy refreshing herself with a glass of "Dick Fizz" at the punch bowl. She seemed to need it. CHAPTER XX But Effie May's amiability was proof even against this trying episode. She said to Joan, the day after the ball, when they were talking things over in unusual intimacy, "By the way, who's the young fellow that danced so much with you last night--a sort of broad, odd chap he was, with ears? I don't think I've seen him before." "Oh, Mr. Blair," Joan smiled at the description. "He danced with me so much because he didn't know any one else." "A stranger here? Where does he come from?" "I don't know--the slums, I fancy. Ask Ellen Neal. He's a pal of hers. But he's a Louisville product, I believe." Effie May glanced at her casually, "Didn't you like him, dearie?" "Oh, well enough. Did you?" "Yes," said the other, "I did. He's honest, and he stands up so straight--doesn't sort of droop over a girl as if his spine was feeble, like some of 'em do. I like a chap to stand up on his own two pins." "But his ears, Effie May!" "Oh, well, what's ears? Just means that his mother forgot to tuck 'em into his cap when he was a baby. Now if his eyes bulged out, that would be another thing. You look out for any man with a bulging eye, Joan." "Very well," she agreed, "I will. What's dangerous about a bulging eye?" "Stoopidity, girlie. Just plain bone-headedness. And if there's anything in the world more dangerous than that, I don't know it!--Let's ask your eary young man again to something, shall we?"