ers to them to ask if they wouldn't have a cup of coffee or some ices before supper was served.
"Say," observed one man to his wife, after Dick had found them chairs, "you'd never know he was a millionaire, would you?"
"Why not?"
"Why, because he's just like other boys—he's like one of our own folks."
"Of course he is," answered his wife. "It's only the wrong kind of people that money makes any difference to. Dick Hamilton can't help being nice. His money hasn't spoiled him," which view was shared by more than one that night.
And such a supper as there was! Long years afterward some of the boys and girls, who were quite small when they attended Dick's party, used to tell of it as though it was a visit to fairyland. Dick fairly outdone himself in seeing that everyone had a good time, and from the faces around the long tables, set within the tent, it was evident that the way to young people's hearts, or, at least, to their good spirits, is through their stomachs.
Dick walked about, like a perfect host, seeing that everyone was served, before sitting down himself. At his heels followed Grit, who was unhappy when away from his master.
"Oh, what a perfect darling of a dog!" exclaimed Birdy Lee, as she stopped over to pat Grit, which indignity he suffered in disdainful silence.
"Isn't he sweet!" chorused several other girls.
