“Through what?”

“The dinner.  You do not understand what a tremendous responsibility you have.  This is my first dinner.”

“I always said dinners were a part of the curse,” said Keith, lightly, smiling down at her fresh face with sheer content.  “I shall confine myself hereafter to breakfast and lunch-except when I receive invitations to Mrs. Wickersham’s.” he added.

Mrs. Lancaster was on the other side of Keith; so he found the dinner much pleasanter than he had expected.  She soon fell to talking of Lois, a subject which Keith found very agreeable.

“You know, she is staying with Louise Wentworth?  Louise had to have some one to stay with her, so she got her to come and teach the children this Winter.  Louise says she is trying to make something of her.”

“From my slight observation, it seems to me as if the Creator has been rather successful in that direction already.  How does she propose to help Him out?”

Mrs. Lancaster bent forward and took a good look at the girl, who at the moment was carrying on an animated conversation with Stirling.  Her color was coming and going, her eyes were sparkling, and her cheek was dimpling with fun.

“She looks as if she came out of a country garden, doesn’t she?” she said.

“Yes, because she has, and has not yet been wired to a stick.”

Mrs. Lancaster’s eyes grew graver at Keith’s speech.  Just then the conversation became more general.  Some one told a story of a man travelling with his wife and meeting a former wife, and forgetting which one he then had.

“Oh, that reminds me of a story I heard the other day.  It was awfully good-but just a little wicked,” exclaimed Mrs. Nailor.

Keith’s smile died out, and there was something very like a cloud lowering on his brow.  Several others appeared surprised, and Mr. Nailor, a small bald-headed man, said across the table:  “Hally, don’t you tell that story.”  But Mrs. Nailor was not to be controlled.

“Oh, I must tell it!  It is not going to hurt any of you.  Let me see if there is any one here very young and innocent?” She glanced about the table.  “Oh, yes; there is little Miss Huntington.  Miss Huntington, you can stop your ears while I tell it.”

“Thank you,” said Lois, placidly.  She leaned a little forward and put her fingers in her ears.

A sort of gasp went around the table, and then a shout of laughter, led by Stirling.  Mrs. Nailor joined in it, but her face was red and her eyes were angry.  Mrs. Wentworth looked annoyed.

“Good,” said Mrs. Lancaster, in an undertone.

“Divine,” said Keith, his eyes snapping with satisfaction.

“It was not so bad as that,” said Mrs. Nailor, her face very red.  “Miss Huntington, you can take your hands down now; I sha’n’t tell it.”

“Thank you,” said Lois, and sat quietly back in her chair, with her face as placid as a child’s.