"I never knew you had so many friends, Dick," answered his father.
"Friends? How?"
"Why, we had to keep one of the maids busy answering the bell while you were in bed. I guess every boy, and lots of the girls, in Hamilton Corners called to see how you were getting on."
"I'm glad they thought of me," replied the millionaire's son. "I wish I could show I appreciate it."
"Well, I think you can, Dick."
"How?"
"I was going to suggest that you hold a little reception—give a sort of party. That's what we called 'em when I was a boy."
"The very thing!" exclaimed Dick. "That will be sport. "But—where could I have it?"
"In the house, of course. Isn't it large enough?"
"That's just it. It's too big and fine. I'm afraid some of the boys wouldn't have a good time, for fear of dropping some cake or ice-cream on the carpets."
"Well, what would you suggest? You might give it in the barn."
"I was thinking of hiring a big tent and having a party out doors on the lawn. That would be unconventional and rather jolly, I think."
"Good idea," answered the millionaire. "I'll order a tent at once and see to the refreshments."
