“Well, here we are!” Max’s voice could be heard in the hall outside, ushering in his guests.  “Go single file down this passage—­you can’t get through side by side!”

Sally went hurriedly forward and met Dorothy Chase’s smartly tailored figure in the middle of the tiny passage.

“Goodness gracious!” Bob and Alec and Mr. Timothy Rudd heard a familiar high-pitched voice exclaim.  “You don’t mean to tell us you live in this mouse-hole!  Actually, my hat hits on both sides!”

Then came Neil Chase’s barytone drawl—­how well Bob remembered hating the sound of it with a profound hatred when it had been addressed contemptuously to him!  “Really, Dorothy—­you know—­I told you that brim of yours was an inch and a half beyond the limit, and this proves it!”

But Sally’s pretty head was held high.  If she had a headache, its effect was visible only in her brilliant cheeks.

“You always ran to extremes, Dorothy, dear.  Why didn’t you take that absurd creation off in the vestibule?  Neil, how are you?  Have you your best Chesterfieldian manner with you?  Because you’d better leave it outside; the apartment’s not large enough for you and it, too!”

“The same impertinent child,” declared Mrs. Chase, surveying her hostess in the light of the living-room.  “And here’s smart Alec,” as that youth came forward, his smile of welcome undergoing a wry twist at this somewhat unusual greeting.  “And Bob—­heavens, child, how you’ve grown!  And this is—­oh, yes—­Mr. Rudd!”

Her careless hand, in its travelling glove, met Uncle Timothy’s grasp, and left it as casually as her bright hazel eyes left the glance of his faded blue ones.  Bob, watching, grinned at Uncle Timothy meaningly, and received in return the mild sparkle of amusement with which the “antique” was accustomed to show himself invulnerable to neglect from young persons of Dorothy Chase’s stamp.

Neil’s greetings of the family were also highly characteristic.  One who had never before seen him might have argued many things from the style of his opening address: 

“This is Alec, eh?  Well, Alec, I see you’re still the flower of the family.  Bob—­how do you like sweeping out offices?  Better than going to school?  And here’s Uncle Thomas—­beg pardon—­Uncle Joshua.  Not got it right yet, Sally?  Confound my memory—­yes, yes—­Uncle Timothy.  How are you, my dear sir?”

“I see,” responded Mr. Rudd, suddenly grown quietly dignified, as he surveyed this jocular young man whom he remembered as a youth whom he had frequently longed to thrash, “that in spite of the pressure of years and responsibility you happily retain your boyish characteristics.”

Young Mr. Chase regarded Uncle Timothy for an instant without speaking.  Then he turned to Sally with a quite audible comment:  “The old gentleman hasn’t changed much, has he?  Keep him with you all the time?”

“We couldn’t live without him,” was Sally’s quick reply.  Uncle Timothy, catching the answer, smiled to himself.  It would take more than the advent of these gay comets in his sky to disturb his content in the stars which revolved loyally about him.