“And the next day,” said Mitchell suddenly (he had been reflecting maturely), “I’ll take you all up the sound in my yacht.”

“Oh, hurrah,” cried Burnett, “that’ll be bully!  And the day after I’ll give her a picnic.”

“Time of your life, Aunt Mary,” Jack shrieked in her ear-trumpet; “time of your life!”

“Dear me!” said Aunt Mary, “I don’t just—­”

“Aunt Mary! glasses down!” cried Clover; “may she live forever and forever.”

“To Aunt Mary, glasses up,” said Mitchell.  “Glasses up come before glasses down always.  It’s one of the laws of Nature—­human nature—­also of good nature.  Here’s to Aunt Mary, and if she isn’t the Aunt Mary of all of us here’s a hoping she may get there some day; I don’t just see how, but I ask the indulgence of those present on the plea that I have indulged quite a little myself to-night.  Honi soit qui mal y pense; ora pro nobis, Erin-go-Bragh.  Present company being present, and impossible to except on that account, we will omit the three cheers and choke down the tiger.”

They all drank, and the dinner having by this time dwindled down to coffee grounds and cheese crumbs a vote was taken as to where they should go next.

Aunt Mary suggested home, but she was over-ruled, and they all went elsewhere.  She never could recollect where she went or what she saw; but, as everyone else has been and seen over and over again, I won’t fuss with detailing it.

The visitor from the country reached home in a carriage in the small hours in the morning, and Janice received her, looking somewhat nervous.

“This is pretty late,” she ventured to remind the bearers; but as they didn’t seem to think so, and she was a maiden, wise beyond her years, she spoke no further word, but went to work and undressed the aged reveller, got her comfortably established in bed, and then left her to get a good sleep, an occupation which occupied the weary one fully until two that afternoon.

When she did at last open her eyes it was several minutes before she knew where she was.  Her brain seemed dazed, her intellect more than clouded.  It is a state of mind to which those who habitually go about in hansoms at the hour of dawn are well accustomed, but to Aunt Mary it was painfully new.  She struggled to remember, and felt helplessly inadequate to the task.  Janice finally came in with a glass of something that foamed and fizzed, and the victim of late hours drank that and came to her senses again.  Then she recollected.

“My! but I had a good time last night!” she said, putting her hand to her head.  “What time is it now, anyhow?”

“Breakfast time,” cried the handmaiden.  “You’ll have just long enough to eat and dress leisurely before you go out.”

“Oh!” said Aunt Mary blankly; “where ‘m I goin’?  Do you know?”

“Mr. Denham told me that you had promised to attend an automobile party at four.”

“Oh, yes,” said Aunt Mary hastily.  “I guess I remember.  I guess I do.  I saw Jack wanted to go, so I said I’d go, too.  I’m a great believer in lettin’ the young enjoy themselves.”