Unfortunately for the neighbours, and even for passers-by, since Noble’s room had a window visible from the street, his prophetic mother had closed his shutters before he began to dress.  Thus she deprived honest folk of what surely must have been to them the innocent pleasure of seeing a very young man in light but complete underwear, lifting from his head a Panama hat, new that day, in a series of courteous salutations.  At times, during this same stage of his toilet, they might have had even more entertainment:—­before putting on his socks Noble “one-stepped” for several minutes, still retaining upon his head the new hat.  This was a hat of double value to him; not only was it pleasant to behold in his mirror, but it was engaged in solidifying for the evening the arrangement of his hair.

It may be admitted that he was a little giddy, for the dance was Julia’s.  Mr. Atwater had been summoned to New York on a blessed business that would keep him a fortnight, and his daughter, alert to the first flash of opportunity, had almost instantly summoned musicians, florists, a caterer, and set plans before them.  Coincidentally, Noble had chanced to see Mr. Atwater driving down Julia’s Street that morning, a travelling bag beside him, and, immediately putting aside for the day all business cares, hurried to the traveller’s house.  Thus he forestalled, for the time being, that competition which helped to make caring for Julia so continuous a strain upon whatever organ is the seat of the anxieties.  Kind Julia, busy as she was, agreed to dance the first dance with him, and the last—­those being considered of such significance that he would be entitled to the perquisites of a special cavalier; for instance, a seat beside her during the serving of the customary light repast.  In such high fortune, no wonder he was a little giddy as he dressed!

The process of clothing himself was disconnected, being broken by various enacted fancies and interludes.  Having approached the length of one sock toward the completion of his toilet, he absently dropped the other upon the floor, and danced again; his expression and attitude signifying that he clasped a revered partner.  Releasing her from this respectful confinement, he offered the invisible lady a gracious arm and walked up and down the room with a stateliness tempered to rhythm, a cakewalk of strange refinement.  Phrases seemed to be running in his head, impromptus symbolic of the touching and romantic, for he spoke them half aloud hi a wistful yet uplifted manner.  “Oh, years!” he said.  “Oh, years so fair; oh, night so rare!” Then he added, in a deeper voice: 

“For life is but a golden dream so sweetly.”

Other whimsies came forth from him as the dressing slowly continued, though one might easily be at fault in attempting to fathom what was his thought when, during the passage of his right foot through the corresponding leg of his trousers, he exclaimed commandingly: