“I think I will decline,” said Oscar.  “I wouldn’t like to leave Harry alone.”

“Oh, he is included too.  Mrs. Clinton heard of his being here, and expressly included him in the invitation.”

“That alters the case.  You’ll go, Harry, won’t you?”

“I am afraid I shouldn’t know how to behave at a fashionable party,” said Harry.

“Oh, you’ve only got to make me your model,” said Oscar, “and you’ll be all right.”

“Did you ever see such conceit, Mr. Walton?” said Maud.

“It reminds me of Fletcher,” said Harry.

“Fitz Fletcher?  By the way, he will probably be there.  His family are acquainted with the Clintons.”

“Yes, he is invited,” said Maud.

“Good!  Then there’s promise of fun,” said Oscar.  “You’ll see Fitz with his best company manners on.”

“I am afraid he won’t enjoy meeting me there,” said Harry.

“Probably not.”

“I don’t see why,” said Maud.

“Shall I tell, Harry?”

“Certainly.”

“To begin with, Fletcher regards himself as infinitely superior to Walton here, because his father is rich, and Walton’s poor.  Again, Harry is a printer, and works for a living, which Fitz considers degrading.  Besides all this, Harry was elected President of our Debating Society,—­an office which Fitz wanted.”

“I hope” said Maud, “that Mr. Fletcher’s dislike does not affect your peace of mind, Mr. Walton.”

“Not materially,” said Harry, laughing.

“By the way, Maud,” said Oscar, “did I ever tell you how Fletcher’s pride was mortified at school by our discovering his relationship to a tin-pedler?”

“No, tell me about it.”

The story, already familiar to the reader, was graphically told by Oscar, and served to amuse his sister.

“He deserved the mortification,” she said.  “I shall remember it if he shows any of his arrogance at the party.”

“Fletcher rather admires Maud,” said Oscar, after his sister had gone out of the room; “but the favor isn’t reciprocated.  If he undertakes to say anything to her against you, she will take him down, depend upon it.”

Saturday evening came, and Harry, with Oscar and his sister, started for the party.  Our hero, having confessed his inability to dance, had been diligently instructed in the Lancers by Oscar, so that he felt some confidence in being able to get through without any serious blunder.

“Of course you must dance, Harry,” he said.  “You don’t want to be a wall-flower.”

“I may have to be,” said Harry.  “I shall know none of the young ladies except your sister.”

“Maud will dance the first Lancers with you, and I will get you a partner for the second.”

“You may dispose of me as you like, Oscar.”

“Wisely said.  Don’t forget that I am your Mentor.”

When they entered the brilliantly lighted parlors, they were already half full.  Oscar introduced his friend to Mrs. Clinton.