When, toward four o’clock, Aunt Mary opened her eyes, she was at first almost as hazy in her conceptions as she had found herself upon the previous day.

“I feel as if the automobile was runnin’ up my back and over my head,” she said, thoughtfully passing her hand along the machine’s imaginary course.  Then she rang her bell and Janice appeared from the room beyond.

“I guess you’d better give me some of that that you gave me yesterday,” the elderly lady suggested; “what do you think?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Janice—­and went at once and brought it in separate glasses on a tray, and mixed it by pouring, while Aunt Mary looked on with an intuitive understanding that passed instinct and bordered on a complete comprehension of things to her hitherto unknown.

“They’d ought to advertise that,” she said, as she set down the empty glass a few seconds later.  “There’d be a lot of folks who’d be glad to know there was such a thing when they first wake up mornin’s after—­after—­ well, mornin’s after anythin’.  It’s jus’ what you want right off; it sort of runs through your hair and makes you begin to remember.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Janice, turning to put down the tray, and then crossing the room to seek something on the chimney-piece.

Aunt Mary gave a sudden twist,—­as if the drink had infused an effervescing energy into her frame.  “Well what am I goin’ to do to-day?” she asked.

“Mr. Denham has written out your engagements here,” said Janice, handing her a jeweler’s box as she spoke.

Aunt Mary tore off the tissue paper with trembling haste—­lifted the cover—­ and beheld a tiny ivory and gold memoranda card.

“Well, that boy!” she ejaculated.

“Shall I read the list aloud to you?” the maid inquired.

“Yes, read it.”

So Janice read the dates proposed the night before and Aunt Mary sat up in bed, held her ear-trumpet, and beamed beatifically.

“I don’t believe I ever can do all that,” she said when Janice paused; “I never was one to rush around pell-mell, but I’ve always been a great believer in lettin’ other folks enjoy themselves an’ I shall try not to interfere.”

Janice hung the tiny memoranda up beside its owner’s watch and stood at attention for further orders.

“But I d’n know I’m sure what I can wear to-night,” continued the one in bed; “you know my bonnet was run over yesterday.”

“Was it?”

“Yes,—­it was the most sudden thing I ever saw.  I thought it was the top of my head at first.”

“Was it spoiled?”

“Well, it wouldn’t do for me again and I don’t really believe it would even do for Lucinda.  We didn’t bring it home with us anyhow an’ so its no use talkin’ of it any more.  I’m sure I wish I’d brought my other with me.  It wasn’t quite as stylish, but it set so good on my head.  As it is I ain’t got any bonnet to wear an’ we’re goin’ in a box, Jack says,—­I should hate to look wrong in a box.”