“Best party this town ever saw.  Only——­Don’t cross your legs in that costume.  Shows your knees too plain.”

She was vexed.  She resented his clumsiness.  She returned to Guy Pollock and talked of Chinese religions—­not that she knew anything whatever about Chinese religions, but he had read a book on the subject as, on lonely evenings in his office, he had read at least one book on every subject in the world.  Guy’s thin maturity was changing in her vision to flushed youth and they were roaming an island in the yellow sea of chatter when she realized that the guests were beginning that cough which indicated, in the universal instinctive language, that they desired to go home and go to bed.

While they asserted that it had been “the nicest party they’d ever seen—­my! so clever and original,” she smiled tremendously, shook hands, and cried many suitable things regarding children, and being sure to wrap up warmly, and Raymie’s singing and Juanita Haydock’s prowess at games.  Then she turned wearily to Kennicott in a house filled with quiet and crumbs and shreds of Chinese costumes.

He was gurgling, “I tell you, Carrie, you certainly are a wonder, and guess you’re right about waking folks up.  Now you’ve showed ’em how, they won’t go on having the same old kind of parties and stunts and everything.  Here!  Don’t touch a thing!  Done enough.  Pop up to bed, and I’ll clear up.”

His wise surgeon’s-hands stroked her shoulder, and her irritation at his clumsiness was lost in his strength.

V

From the Weekly Dauntless: 

One of the most delightful social events of recent months was held Wednesday evening in the housewarming of Dr. and Mrs. Kennicott, who have completely redecorated their charming home on Poplar Street, and is now extremely nifty in modern color scheme.  The doctor and his bride were at home to their numerous friends and a number of novelties in diversions were held, including a Chinese orchestra in original and genuine Oriental costumes, of which Ye Editor was leader.  Dainty refreshments were served in true Oriental style, and one and all voted a delightful time.

VI

The week after, the Chet Dashaways gave a party.  The circle of mourners kept its place all evening, and Dave Dyer did the “stunt” of the Norwegian and the hen.

CHAPTER VII

I

Gopher prairie was digging in for the winter.  Through late November and all December it snowed daily; the thermometer was at zero and might drop to twenty below, or thirty.  Winter is not a season in the North Middlewest; it is an industry.  Storm sheds were erected at every door.  In every block the householders, Sam Clark, the wealthy Mr. Dawson, all save asthmatic Ezra Stowbody who extravagantly hired a boy, were seen perilously staggering up ladders, carrying storm windows and screwing them to second-story jambs.  While Kennicott put up his windows Carol danced inside the bedrooms and begged him not to swallow the screws, which he held in his mouth like an extraordinary set of external false teeth.