Roger found a place in a big chair beside the piano, and sat there alone, interested and curious.  And presently Pittiwitz, stealing toward the hearth, arched her back under his hand, and he reached down and lifted her to his knee, where she stretched herself, sphinx-like, her amber eyes shining in the dusk.

With the last guest seated, Barry stood before them, and gave the key to the situation.

“Everybody is to light a candle with some stunt,” he explained.  “You know the idea.  All of you have some parlor tricks, and you’re to show them off.”

There were no immediate volunteers, so Barry pounced on Leila.

“You begin,” he said, and drew her into the circle of the firelight.

She looked very childish and sweet as she stood there with her unlighted candle, and sang a lullaby.  Mary Ballard played her accompaniment softly, sitting so near to Roger in his dim corner that the folds of her velvet gown swept his foot.

And when the song was finished, Leila touched a match to her candle and stood on tiptoe to set it on the corner of the mantel, where it glimmered bravely.

General Dick and Mr. Jeliffe came next.  Solemnly they placed two cushions on the hearth-rug, solemnly they knelt thereon, facing each other.  Then intently and conscientiously they played the old game of “Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold.”  The General’s fat hands met Mr. Jeliffe’s thin ones alternately and in unison.  Not a mistake did they make, and, ending out of breath, the General found it hard to rise, and had to be picked by Porter, like a plump feather pillow.

And now the candles were three!

Then Barry and Delilah danced, a dance which they had practiced together.  It had in it just a hint of wildness, and just a hint of sophistication, and Delilah in her dress of sapphire chiffon, with its flaring tunic of silver net, seemed in the nebulous light like some strange bird of the night.

And now the candles were five!

Following, Leila went to the piano, and Porter and Mary gave a minuet.  They had learned it at dancing-school, and it had been years since they had danced it.  But they did it very well; Porter’s somewhat stiff bearing accorded with its stateliness, and Mary, having added to her green velvet gown a little Juliet cap of lace and a lace fan, showed the radiant, almost boyish beauty which had charmed Roger on the night of the wedding.

His pulses throbbed as he watched her.  They were a well-matched pair, this young millionaire and the pretty maid.  And as their orderly steps went through the dance, so would their orderly lives, if they married, continue to the end.  But what could Porter Bigelow teach Mary Ballard of the things which touch the stars?

And now the candles were seven!  And the spirit of the carnival was upon the company.  Song was followed by story, and story by song—­until at last the room seemed to swim in a golden mist.