“Sally, I can’t possibly husk any corn,” Mrs. Chase murmured, as Sally led her into the drawing-room.  “This gauze is a fright now, and I’ve worn it only three times.  It’s awfully expensive—­but it’s the thing now, you know, so one must have it.”  Her eyes fell on Sally’s dress as she spoke.  “Sally Lane!” she half-shrieked into Sally’s ear, as, at the moment, the orchestra burst into a swinging waltz, “if that isn’t the very same embroidered Swiss that you had for my wedding, almost four years ago, when you were a mere child!”

“Absolutely the same.  Doesn’t it wear well?” Sally answered, serenely.  “Much better than gauze.  No, you needn’t husk any corn.  That’s just for those who want a little fun for a few minutes by and by.  Mr. Ferry!”—­as that young man passed with an inquiring look at her which meant, “Do you want me for anything in connection with these new arrivals?”—­and Ferry was at her side.

She enjoyed presenting him to the Chases, for she wanted to see what would happen.  She had noted a new side of their neighbour to-night.  Thus far their acquaintance had been carried on in tents and wood-lots, in an out-door, every-day environment, so to speak.  Donald Ferry as a good comrade she had come to know well; Donald Ferry as a popular preacher she knew by many an enthusiastic report from Jarvis, Alec, and Bob; but the same person as a society man in evening dress, with most engaging manners, was a new acquaintance!  She observed him with interest as he made himself entertaining to Neil and Dorothy, and blessed him for his tact when he presently went off with Mrs. Chase, to do her special honour as the only young matron present.  She observed that Dorothy seemed very ready to accompany him.

Neil looked after his wife and her companion with an expression of curiosity.  “I’d like to know how you came to have him here?” he suggested.  “Isn’t he that chap the papers are full of, who holds forth to a crowd of men every day down in the Old Dutch Church?”

“He’s the one,” Max replied.  “I haven’t heard him yet, though I mean to soon.  Burnside and the boys say he’s great.  He lives next door to us here.”

“He’s not at all the sort I expected to see, from the stories about him.  Still, the sanctimonious sort probably couldn’t hold the class of men they say go there regularly.  He lives next door to you here, does he?  That’s odd.  My brother Ches didn’t talk about anything else than Ferry this morning at breakfast.  Says he refused a flattering invitation to a church in Washington because he preferred to stay by the Old Dutch.  Well, Dorothy didn’t realize he was a parson, or she wouldn’t have gone off with him with such a flourish.  If she finds it out, you can look to see her begin to be demure.  I say, you’ve certainly got a stunning old place here.”

“Think so?”

Chase gazed about him at the details of the long drawing-room, noting its wood-work and general proportions.  “I’d rather like to look it over,” he proposed.  “Mind taking me about?”