It was hardly time for refreshments, and at Mr. Guard’s announcement that all who cared to dance could go into the next room, a movement was made toward the latter, and then all stopped and waited for Archie Barbee, who, with a low bow, was asking Mrs. Crimm for the favor of a fox-trot.

Rigidly Mrs. Crimm stiffened.  Indignantly she waved Archie away.  “I’m a church member.  I never danced in my life, and it’s unfeeling of you to be asking of me when my poor brother’s only been in his grave eight days.”  She took out a, black-bordered handkerchief from a bag hanging at her side, and opened it carefully.  “It’s unfeeling of you, with him only dead one day over a week.”

Hands in his coat pockets, Archie bowed low.  “I ask your pardon, ma’am.  I hadn’t heard about, your brother—­leaving you, and I didn’t guess it, seeing you sitting here as handsome as a hollyhock, though now you speak of it, I see your dress is elegant black and extra becoming.  I beg you’ll be excusing of me.  Mrs. Mundy, ma’am, I hope you’ll honor me.”

The room had grown quiet, each waiting for the other to move, and, hearing a step in the hall, I looked toward the door, which was partly open, then went forward, thinking a belated guest might be coming in.  The door opened wider and Selwyn stood on its threshold.

For a half-minute I stared at him and he at me.  In his face was amazement.  As I held out my hand he recovered himself and came inside.

“I beg your pardon.  I’m afraid I’m intruding.  I did not know you were having a—­”

“Party.  I am.”  I was angry with myself for the flush in my face.  “You are in time to share in some of it.  Mr. Guard”—­I turned to the latter, who happened to be near the door—­“will you introduce Mr. Thorne to some of my friends while I see Martha?  I will be back in a moment.”  I had changed my mind and decided to have supper before we danced.

Selwyn bit his lip and his eyes narrowed, then over his face swept change, and, shaking hands with David Guard, he went forward and spoke to Mrs. Mundy and Bettina; shook hands with Mr. Crimm, and met in turn each of my guests.  Why had he come to-night of all nights?  I asked myself.  He evidently intended to stay and perhaps my party might be ruined.

But it was not ruined.  With an ability I did not know he possessed Selwyn gave himself to the furtherance of the evening’s pleasure, talking to first one and then the other, and later, with the ease of long usage, he waited on Mrs. Gibbons and Mrs. Crimm, serving them punctiliously with all that was included in the evening’s refreshments.  When there was nothing more that he could do I saw him sitting between Gracie Hurd the little shirtwaist girl, and Marion Spade, a waitress at one of the up-town restaurants, eating his supper as they ate theirs, and they were finding him apparently somewhat more than entertaining.

From my corner where I poured tea I watched the pictures made by the different groupings and tried not to think of Selwyn.  He was behaving well, but he didn’t approve of what I was doing.  He rarely approves of what I do.