lingering talkers, who were conspicuous to each other, and Mrs. Pasmer felt that she and her daughter were conspicuous to all the rest where they stood apart, with the two Maverings converging upon them from different points, the son nodding and laughing to friends of both sexes as he came, the father wholly absorbed in not spilling the glass of claret punch which he carried in one hand, and not falling down on the slippery floor with the plate of salad which he bore in the other.  She had thoughts of feigning unconsciousness; she would have had no scruple in practising this or any other social stratagem, for though she kept a conscience in regard to certain matters—­what she considered essentials—­she lived a thousand little lies every day, and taught her daughter by precept and example to do the same.  You must seem to be looking one way when you were really looking another; you must say this when you meant that; you must act as if you were thinking one thing when you were thinking something quite different; and all to no end, for, as she constantly said, people always know perfectly well what you were about, whichever way you looked or whatever you said, or no matter how well you acted the part of thinking what you did not think.  Now, although she seemed not to look, she saw all that has been described at a glance, and at another she saw young Mavering slide easily up to his father and relieve him of the plate and glass, with a laugh as pleasant and a show of teeth as dazzling as he bestowed upon any of the ladies he had passed.  She owned to her recondite heart that she liked this in young Mavering, though at the same time she asked herself what motive he really had in being so polite to his father before people.  But she had no time to decide; she had only time to pack the question hurriedly away for future consideration, when young Mavering arrived at her elbow, and she turned with a little “Oh!” of surprise so perfectly acted that it gave her the greatest pleasure.

IV.

“I don’t think my father would have got here alive with these things,” said young Mavering.  “Did you see how I came to his rescue?”

Mrs. Pasmer instantly threw away all pretext of not having seen.  “Oh yes! my heart was in my mouth when you bore down upon him, Mr. Mavering.  It was a beautiful instance of filial devotion.”

“Well, do sit down now, Mrs. Pasmer, and take it comfortably,” said the young fellow; and he got her one of the many empty chairs, and would not give her the things, which he put in another, till she sat down and let him spread a napkin over her lap.

“Really,” she said, “I feel as if I were stopping all the wheels of Class Day.  Am I keeping them from closing the Gymnasium, Mr. Mavering?”

“Not quite,” said the young man, with one of his laughs.  “I don’t believe they will turn us out, and I’ll see that they don’t lock us in.  Don’t hurry, Mrs. Pasmer.  I’m only sorry you hadn’t something sooner.”