Some weeks had elapsed since that sorrowful result of praiseworthy economy.  Marjory’s feelings had been soothed by a pair of tan-colored kids, three-buttoned, stitched on the backs, accompanied by a glove-buttoner and a hug from John.  The mention of dyed gloves still raised a flush on her round cheeks and painful recollections in her heart, but she was beginning to banish the sore subject from her mind, and to half smile to herself when she did think of it; for, in spite of the enormity of the supposed offence, the vision of her remarkable appearance when John raised her veil before the glass was too much for her risibles as it grew more and more retrospective.  For she was one of those happy mortals who cannot help seeing a joke, even when it points their way.

She came down stairs one evening arrayed in her best bib and tucker, and was speedily joined by John, whose appearance likewise indicated some approaching festivity—­all but his face, which wore a rather disgusted expression.  “What a bore parties are!” said that world-weary individual from the height of his twenty-third year.

“That depends,” answered Marjory with the superior wisdom of eighteen.  “If one meets bright people, they are not a bore.  And I’ll give you some advice, Jack:  don’t always take it for granted that the girls can only talk gossip and fashions.  Take it for granted that they have at least as much sense as you have, and talk about something worth while.”

“The descent of man, for instance?” suggested John, somewhat mischievously.  “From the interest you take in that, I’ve no doubt the rest of the girls would be charmed.”

“What is that thing somebody said about the man of one book?” asked Marjory, looking abstracted.

“Don’t know,” replied John—­“never met him.”

The party was about as lively and about as stupid as parties generally are.  There was a little pleasant music, a little innocent “square dancing,” a very well-ordered supper, and a good deal of conversation.

Toward the close of the evening the hostess came to Marjory.  “My dear,” she said, “I have a young friend here whom I wish to introduce to you and your brother:  he told me he had heard of John’s interest in scientific matters, and as he has just come to live in the city, he has not many acquaintances.  He is a very nice fellow.  I know all about him, and I want him to have a few pleasant visiting-places:  I always feel so sorry for a young man away from his family in a large city.  May I bring him and introduce him to you?”

“Certainly, if he is not stupid,” said Marjory, smiling.  “There is John:  I will make him come here before you have captured your young man, and then we can be introduced together.”.