“Norrie!”

“Truly I shall.  Quite miraculously.  And you’re to see that the young Greek godling doesn’t get any other partner for supper—­”

“Esme!!”

“—­because I’m sure he’d rather have me,” she concluded superbly.

“Eleanor Stanley Maxwell Elliot!”

“Oh, you may call me all my names.  I’m accustomed to abuse from you.  But you’ll arrange it, dear Jinny, won’t you!”

“Did you ever fail of anything when you put on that wheedling face and tone?”

“Never,” said Miss Elliot with composure, but giving her friend a little hug.  “Here they come.  I fly.  Bring him to me later.”

Piloted by Festus Willard, Hal crossed the floor, and beheld, moving to meet him with outstretched hands, a little woman with an elfin face and the smile of a happy child.

“Have you forgotten me, Hal?”

“Lady Jeannette!” he cried, the old boyhood name springing to his lips.  “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t Festus tell you?” She looked fondly up at her big husband.  “I didn’t know that the surprise would last up to the final moment.”

“It’s the very best surprise that has happened to me in Worthington,” declared Hal emphatically.

“We’re quite prepared to adopt you, Surtaine,” said Willard pleasantly.  “Jinny has never ceased to wonder why she heard nothing from you in reply to her note telling of our engagement.”

“Never got it,” said Hal promptly.  “And I’ve wondered why she dropped me so unaccountably.  It’s rather luck for me, you know,” he added, smiling, “to find friends ready-made in a strange town.”

“Oh, you’ll make friends enough,” declared Mrs. Willard.  “The present matter is to make acquaintances.  Come and dance this dance out with me and then I’ll take you about and introduce you.  Are you as good a dancer as you used to be?”

Hal was, and something more.  And in his hostess he had one of the best partners in Worthington.  Cleverly she had judged that the “Boston” with her, if he were proficient, would be the strongest recommendation to the buds of the place.  And, indeed, before they had gone twice about the floor, many curious and interested eyes were turned upon them.  Not the least interested were those of Miss Elliot, who privately decided, over a full and overflowing programme, that she would advance her recovery to one dance before the supper announcement.

“You’re going to be a social success, Hal,” whispered his partner.  “I feel it.  And where did you learn that delightful swing after the dip?”

“Picked it up on shipboard.  But I shan’t have much time for gayeties.  You see, I’ve become a workingman.”

“Tell me about it to-morrow.  You’re to dine with us; quite en famille.  You must like Festus, Hal.”

“I should think that would be easy.”

“It is.  He is just the finest, cleanest, straightest human being in the world,” she said soberly.  “Now, come away and meet a million people.”