She looked sharply at Janice as she spoke, but Janice was serene.

“I didn’t come to town to do anything but make Jack happy,” continued Aunt Mary, “and I see that he won’t take any fresh air without I go along—­so I shall go too while I’m here.  Mostly.  As a general thing.”

“Mr. Mitchell called and left these flowers with his card,” Janice said, opening a huge box of roses; “and a man brought a package.  Shall I open it?”

Aunt Mary’s wrinkles fairly radiated.

“Well, did I ever!” she exclaimed.  “Yes; open it.”

Janice proceeded to obey, and the package was found to contain an automobile wrap, a pair of goggles and a note from Clover.

“My gracious me!” cried Aunt Mary.

“Mr. Denham sent the violets,” Janice said, pointing to a great bowl of lilac and white blossoms.

Just then the doorbell rang, and it was a ten-pound box of candy from
Burnett.

Aunt Mary collapsed among her pillows.

“I never did!” she murmured feebly, and then she suddenly exclaimed:  “An’ to think of me livin’ up there all my life with plenty of money—­” she stopped short.  I tell you when you come to New York on a mission and stay for the Bacchanalia it is hard to hold consistently to either standard.

But Janice had gone for her lady’s breakfast, and after the lady had eaten it and had herself dressed for the day’s joys, Jack knocked at the door.

“Well, Aunt Mary,” he roared, when he was let in, “if you don’t look fine!  You’re the freshest of the bunch to-day, sure.  You’ll be ready for another night to-night, and you’ve only to say where, you know.”

“Granite did my hair,” said his aunt; “you must praise her, not me.”

“And you’ve got your goggles all ready, too,” he continued.  “Who sent ’em?”

“Oh, I shan’t wiggle,” said Aunt Mary “although I can’t see how it could hurt if I did.”

“Come on and let’s dress her up,” said Jack to the maid, “Glory! what fun!”

Thereupon they went to work and rigged the old lady out.  She was certainly a sight, for she stood by her own bonnet, and that failed to jibe with the goggles.

Burnett was summoned in to view the proceedings, but just as he caught the first glimpse he was taken with a fearful cramp in his broken ribs and was forced to beat the hastiest sort of a retreat.

“I hope he’ll get over it and be able to go out with us,” said Aunt Mary anxiously.

“I guess he’ll recover,” Jack yelled cheerfully.  “Oh, there’s Clover!”

A sort of dull, ponderous panting sounded in the street without, and let all the neighbors know that “The Threshing Machine” (as Clover had christened his elephantine toy) was waiting for someone.

Its owner came in for a stirrup cup; Mitchell was with him.  Both were togged out as if entered for the annual Paris-Bordeaux.

Burnett brought out the cut-glass jugs.