"Well, here they are, Madge!" said Oliver heartily.
Her first words jarred us.
"I guess we surprised you some," she laughed.
"Well—it was unexpected," said Tom finally.
She giggled at that; then she asked, trying to appear at ease, "Well, aren't you going to introduce me around, Oliver?"
It was very painful. She gave her fingers to us in a ridiculous fashion. "Pleased to meet you!" she said like a machine after each name, and then after I, the last one, had dropped her hand, in a moment of deep confusion she remarked, glancing around the room, "Oh, my, I think your house is just grand!"
Malcolm coughed; Oliver flushed.
"Did you have a long trip?" I asked.
"Just dreadful," she replied eagerly. "The dirt was something awful. We came up in a parlour-car. I just love parlour-cars! We've been staying at an elegant hotel in New York."
"Sit down, won't you?" said Malcolm kindly. He pushed up a chair and she glanced at him archly.
"Thank you ever so much!" Then she added coyly, and my heart bled for her poor pitiful attempt, "I know you. You're Malcolm. I was awfully gone on your photo once." She giggled again. Alec took out a large white handkerchief and wiped his brow. Malcolm shifted uneasily to his other foot, and she added confidentially, "It was something awful the way it used to make Oliver jealous."
At that moment Edith swept up before her. "I think I met you once," she began loftily.
"I remember," said Madge. "You came through
