It did not once enter his mind that he could go to the dance in his “best suit,” or that possibly the other young people at the party would be too busy with their own affairs to notice particularly what he wore.  It was the unquestionable and granite fact, to his mind, that the whole derisive World would know the truth about his earlier appearances in his father’s clothes.  And that was a form of ruin not to be faced.  In the protective darkness and seclusion of William’s bedroom, it is possible that smarting eyes relieved themselves by blinking rather energetically; it is even possible that there was a minute damp spot upon the pillow.  Seventeen cannot always manage the little boy yet alive under all the coverings.

Now arrived that moment he had most painfully anticipated, and dance-music drifted on the night;—­but there came a tapping upon his door and a soft voice spoke.

“Will-ee?”

With a sharp exclamation William swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up.  Of all things he desired not, he desired no conversation with, or on the part of, Jane.  But he had forgotten to lock his door—­the handle turned, and a dim little figure marched in.

“Willie, Adelia’s goin’ to put me to bed.”

“You g’way from here,” he said, huskily.  “I haven’t got time to talk to you.  I’m busy.”

“Well, you can wait a minute, can’t you?” she asked, reasonably.  “I haf to tell you a joke on mamma.”

“I don’t want to hear any jokes!”

“Well, I haf to tell you this one ’cause she told me to!  Oh!” Jane clapped her hand over her mouth and jumped up and down, offering a fantastic silhouette against the light of the Open door.  “Oh, oh, oh!”

“What’s matter?”

“She said I mustn’t, mustn’t tell that she told me to tell!  My goodness!  I forgot that!  Mamma took me off alone right after dinner, an’ she told me to tell you this joke on her a little after she an’ papa had left the house, but she said, ‘Above all things,’ she said, ’don’t let Willie know I said to tell him.’  That’s just what she said, an’ here that’s the very first thing I had to go an’ do!”

“Well, what of it?”

Jane quieted down.  The pangs of her remorse were lost in her love of sensationalism, and her voice sank to the thrilling whisper which it was one of her greatest pleasures to use.  “Did you hear what a fuss papa was makin’ when he was dressin’ for the card-party?”

“I don’t care if—­”

“He had to go in his reg’lar clo’es!” whispered Jane, triumphantly.  “An’ this is the joke on mamma:  you know that tailor that let papa’s dress-suit ’way, ’way out; well, Mamma thinks that tailor must think she’s crazy, or somep’m ’cause she took papa’s dress-suit to him last Monday to get it pressed for this card-party, an she guesses he must of understood her to tell him to do lots besides just pressin’