Mrs. Marshall heard this proposal with a second little sigh of relief, and accepted as a matter of course. Indeed, outside of Mrs. Rhodes--and possibly Mrs. Belden--she had absolutely no one to whom she could turn. "And Aunt Lyddy for another," said Jane. "Yes," assented Mrs. Bates, in the tone of indorsement. "Mrs. Rhodes and I are acquainted"--with a sly look towards Jane; "and there--with your other sister, perhaps--our little party is made up." "And about the people to be invited," Eliza Marshall proceeded, with some little show of initiative. Her task was becoming less and less formidable; she felt herself approaching this supposed ordeal with something almost like buoyancy. "Let's have it nice and little and cosey," suggested Mrs. Bates, with a cosey little air of her own. "Twenty-five or thirty at the outside." She wondered inwardly where even so small a number could be got. "Why, _six_ would do--if they were the right six! And why should we want more than three carriages before the house at any one time?--not to have a man shouting numbers, I hope!" She drew her wraps together and rose to go. "If I might ask for cards for one or two of my own friends?--nice, pleasant people, who would be glad to become acquainted among the old families," she added, diplomatically. "If she can only be kept from suspecting how swell they really are, till it's all over!" was the good creature's inner thought. "Of course Rosy's appearance here isn't public, nor any equivalent for it; that will come later. I myself shall want to do something for her on the South side, and there will be one or two good houses for her on the North side--oh, our little duck will swim, when once put into the pond, as you shall see. After _that_, we shall want only a kind papa to pay the bills and a patient maid to sit up until three or four in the morning." Mrs. Bates got herself away in great good-humor and kept that humor until the following day, when Jane came to announce the participation of Mrs. Belden. "Have her pour tea!" cried Susan Bates, without a moment's hesitation. "Let her come early, and let her stay late, and pour and pour and pour until the last cup is drunk. I can't promise your mother that I shall be there throughout, but I will be there for half an hour--during the middle, perhaps. And tea--well, I never drink it, even at home." Jane looked at her in some surprise. "And don't let your mother change her rooms any," Mrs. Bates went on, rapidly. "They're right as they are--in perfect agreement. They have a quiet tone; and a low, quiet tone, after all, is the best thing--and the hardest thing to get. And not too many flowers." "Never fear," said Jane, grimly. "She won't change anything." "And don't let her have too much on the table. Give them tea and chocolate and sandwiches and Albert biscuits--that's plenty. And if your second girl shows, a cap would do no harm. Put a slice of lemon in every cup--that discourages lots of people."