The invitations had been for half-past seven, and precisely at that hour Peterkin arrived, magnificent in his swallow-tail and white shirt front, where an enormous diamond shone conspicuously.  With him came the second Mrs. Peterkin, whose name was Mary Jane, but whom her husband always called May Jane.  She was a frail, pale faced little woman, and had once been Grace Atherton’s maid, but had married Peterkin for his money.  This was her first appearance at a grand party, and in her excitement and timidity she did not hear Harold’s thrice repeated words, ’Ladies go that way,’ but followed her husband into the gentlemen’s dressing-room, where she deposited her wraps, and then, shaking in every limb, descended to the drawing-room, where Peterkin’s boisterous laugh was soon heard, as he slapped his host on the shoulder, and said: 

’You see, we are here on time, though May Jane said it was too early.  But I s’posed half-past seven meant half-past seven and then I wanted a little time to talk up the ropes with you.  We are going to run you in, you bet!’ and again his coarse laugh thrilled every nerve in Mrs. Tracy’s body, and she longed for fresh arrivals to help quiet this vulgar man.

Soon they began to come by twos, and threes, and sixes, and Harold was kept busy with his ‘Ladies this way, and gentlemen that.’

After Mrs. Peterkin had gone down stairs, leaving her wraps in the gentlemen’s rooms, Harold, who knew they did not belong there, had carried them to the ladies’ room and deposited them upon the bed, just as the girl who was to be in attendance appeared at her post, asked him sharply why he was in there rummaging the ladies’ things.

’I’m not rummaging.  They are Mrs. Peterkin’s.  She left them in the other room, and I brought them here,’ Harold said, as he returned to the hall, never dreaming that this little circumstance, trivial as it seemed, would be one of the links in the chain of evidence which must for a time overshadow him so darkly.

Now, he was eager and excited, and interested in watching the people as they came up the stairs and went down again.  With the quick instinct of a bright, intelligent boy, he decided who was accustomed to society and who was not, and leaning over the banister when not on duty, watched them when they entered the drawing-room and were received by Mr. and Mrs. Tracy.  Unconsciously he began to imitate them, bowing when they bowed, and saying softly to himself: 

’Oh, how do you do?  Good evening.  Happy to see you.  Pleasant to-night.  Walk in.  Ye-as!’

This was the monosyllable with which he finished every sentence, and was the affirmation to the thought in his mind that he, too, would some day go down those stairs and into those parlors as a guest, while some other boy in the upper hall bade the ladies go this way and the gentlemen that.

It was after nine when Mr. and Mrs. St. Claire arrived, with Squire Harrington, from Collingwood.  Harold had been looking for them, anxious to see the crimson satin trimmed with ermine, of which Dick had told him.  Many of the guests he had mentally criticised unsparingly, but Mrs. St. Claire, he knew, was genuine, and his face beamed, when in passing him, she smiled upon him with her sweet, gracious manner, and said, pleasantly: