The Babbitts somewhat thoroughly discussed the details of the dinner, from the purchase of a bottle of champagne to the number of salted almonds to be placed before each person.  Especially did they mention the matter of the other guests.  To the last Babbitt held out for giving Paul Riesling the benefit of being with the McKelveys.  “Good old Charley would like Paul and Verg Gunch better than some highfalutin’ Willy boy,” he insisted, but Mrs. Babbitt interrupted his observations with, “Yes—­perhaps—­I think I’ll try to get some Lynnhaven oysters,” and when she was quite ready she invited Dr. J. T. Angus, the oculist, and a dismally respectable lawyer named Maxwell, with their glittering wives.

Neither Angus nor Maxwell belonged to the Elks or to the Athletic Club; neither of them had ever called Babbitt “brother” or asked his opinions on carburetors.  The only “human people” whom she invited, Babbitt raged, were the Littlefields; and Howard Littlefield at times became so statistical that Babbitt longed for the refreshment of Gunch’s, “Well, old lemon-pie-face, what’s the good word?”

Immediately after lunch Mrs. Babbitt began to set the table for the seven-thirty dinner to the McKelveys, and Babbitt was, by order, home at four.  But they didn’t find anything for him to do, and three times Mrs. Babbitt scolded, “Do please try to keep out of the way!” He stood in the door of the garage, his lips drooping, and wished that Littlefield or Sam Doppelbrau or somebody would come along and talk to him.  He saw Ted sneaking about the corner of the house.

“What’s the matter, old man?” said Babbitt.

“Is that you, thin, owld one?  Gee, Ma certainly is on the warpath!  I told her Rone and I would jus’ soon not be let in on the fiesta to-night, and she bit me.  She says I got to take a bath, too.  But, say, the Babbitt men will be some lookers to-night!  Little Theodore in a dress-suit!”

“The Babbitt men!” Babbitt liked the sound of it.  He put his arm about the boy’s shoulder.  He wished that Paul Riesling had a daughter, so that Ted might marry her.  “Yes, your mother is kind of rouncing round, all right,” he said, and they laughed together, and sighed together, and dutifully went in to dress.

The McKelveys were less than fifteen minutes late.

Babbitt hoped that the Doppelbraus would see the McKelveys’ limousine, and their uniformed chauffeur, waiting in front.

The dinner was well cooked and incredibly plentiful, and Mrs. Babbitt had brought out her grandmother’s silver candlesticks.  Babbitt worked hard.  He was good.  He told none of the jokes he wanted to tell.  He listened to the others.  He started Maxwell off with a resounding, “Let’s hear about your trip to the Yellowstone.”  He was laudatory, extremely laudatory.  He found opportunities to remark that Dr. Angus was a benefactor to humanity, Maxwell and Howard Littlefield profound scholars, Charles McKelvey an inspiration to ambitious youth, and Mrs. McKelvey an adornment to the social circles of Zenith, Washington, New York, Paris, and numbers of other places.