“It’s a real sort of party,” declared Martha.  “Small but select, as they used to say in books when I was a girl.  There will be four of us, you and I and Nelson Howard and Lulie.”

Galusha was surprised.

“Nelson Howard!” he repeated.  “Why, dear me, I thought—­I understood that Mr. Howard was persona non grata to Captain Hallett.”

Martha nodded.  “Well, if that means what I suppose it does, he is,” she replied.  “If Cap’n Jeth knew Nelson was goin’ to eat supper in his house he’d go without eatin’ himself to stop it.  But, you see, he doesn’t know.  Jethro is goin’ spiritualizin’ to-night.  Marietta Hoag and Ophelia Beebe and their crowd of rattleheads have dug up a brand new medium who is visitin’ over in Trumet and they’ve made up a party to go there and hold a seance.  When they told Cap’n Jeth, of course nothin’ would do but he must go, too.  So, while he is gone Nelson is comin’ over to supper.  It’s deceivin’ the old man, in one way, of course, but it isn’t doin’ him a bit of harm.  And it does give the young folks a pleasant time, and I think they deserve it.  Lulie has been as kind and forbearin’ with her father as a daughter could be, and Nelson has been more patient than the average young fellow, by a good deal.”

Late that afternoon two automobiles laden with humanity, male and female, drove past the Phipps’ gate, and Primmie, from the window, announced that it was “Marietta and ’Phelia and the rest of ’em.  My savin’ soul, ain’t they talkin’ though!  Cal’late the sperits ‘ll have busy times this evenin’, don’t you, Miss Martha?” A few minutes later she proclaimed that Cap’n Jeth had just climbed aboard and that the autos were coming back.

“See!  See, Mr. Bangs!” she cried, pointing.  “There’s Cap’n Jeth, settin’ between Marietta and ’Phelia Beebe.  There’s the three of ’em on the back seat.  Cap’n Jeth’s the one with the whiskers.”

At six o’clock Martha and her lodger walked over to the Hallett house.  Miss Phipps was dressed in her best gown and looked the personification of trim, comfortable New England femininity.  Galusha was garbed in the suit he wore the evening of his arrival, but it had been newly sponged and pressed.

“It looks lots better,” observed Martha, inspecting him as they walked along.  “It wouldn’t have, though, if Primmie had finished the job.  I was so busy that I let her start on it, but when I saw what a mess she was makin’ I had to drop everything else and do it myself.”

Galusha looked puzzled.

“Yes?” he said, politely.  “Oh, yes, yes.  Yes, indeed.”

She shook her head.

“I do believe you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about,” she said.  “Now, do you?”

“Why—­ah—­why, Miss Phipps, I confess I—­I—­”

“Well, I declare!  I never saw a person like you in my life.  Didn’t you notice any difference in that suit of clothes?”

Mr. Bangs, looking downward, suddenly became aware of his immaculate appearance.  He was very much upset.