Helen did not consider it necessary to debate that question.  “You have invited some rich man to meet me at your house?” she asked.

“I was going to say nothing to you about it at first,” said the other, “and let you find out.  But I thought afterwards that it would be better to tell you, so that you could manage for yourself.  I have invited all the men whom Mr. Roberts and I thought it would be best for you to meet.”

Helen gazed at her aunt silently for a moment, and then she broke into a nervous laugh.  “A regular exposition!” she said; “and you’ll bring them out one by one and put them through their paces, won’t you, Auntie?  And have them labeled for comparison,—­so that I can tell just what stocks they own and how they stand on the ‘Street’!  Do you remember the suitor in Moliere?—­’J’ai quinze mille livres de rente; j’ai le corps sain; j’ai des beaux dents!’”

It was a flash of Helen’s old merriment, but it did not seem so natural as usual, even to her.  She forced herself to laugh, for she was growing more and more excited and uneasy.

“My dear,” said Aunt Polly, “please do not begin making fun again.”

“But you must let me joke a little, Auntie,” said the girl.  “I have never been serious for so long before.”

“You ought to be serious about it, my dear.”

“I will,” said Helen.  “I have really listened attentively; you must tell me all about these rich men that I am to meet, and what I am to do.  I hope I am not the only girl.”

“Of course not,” was the response; “I would not do anything ridiculous.  I have invited a number of other girls—­but they won’t trouble you in the least.”

“No,” said Helen.  “I am not afraid of other girls; but what’s to be done?  It’s a sort of house-warming, I suppose?”

“Yes,” was the reply, “I suppose so, for I only came down last week myself.  I have asked about twenty people for a week or two; they all know each other, more or less, so there won’t be much formality.  We shall amuse ourselves with coaching and golf, and anything else we please; and of course there will be plenty of music in the evening.”

Helen smiled at the significant tone of her aunt’s voice.  “Are the people there now?” she asked.

“Those who live anywhere in the neighborhood are; most of the men will be down on the afternoon train, in time for dinner.”

“And tell me who are the men, Auntie?”

“I’m afraid I won’t have time,” said Mrs. Roberts, glancing out of the carriage.  “We are too near home.  But I will tell you about one of them, if you like.”

“The king-bee?” laughed Helen.  “Is there a king-bee?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Roberts; “there is.  At any rate, my husband and I think he is, and we are anxious to see what you think.  His name is Gerald Harrison, and he comes from Cincinnati.”

“Oh, dear,” said Helen, “I hate to meet men from the West.  He must be a pork-packer, or something horrible.”