“You always did have the making of a philanthropist in you, Dave,” said Andrew thoughtfully.  “You’re a near-one at present speaking.”

“Philanthropist go hang—­the rest of the week I have spent getting the old Confeds together and having everything in shape for the unveiling of the statue out at the Temple of Arts.  I tell you we are going to have a turn-out.  General Clopton is coming all the way to make the dedication speech.  Caroline is about to bolt and I have to steady her at off times.  I’ve promised to hold her hand through it all.  Major is getting up the notes for General Clopton and he’s touching on Peters Brown only in high places.  It’ll be mostly a show-down of old General Darrah and the three governors I’m thinking.

“The Dames of the Confederacy and the Art League are going to have entries on the program without number.  I have been interviewed and interviewed.  Why, even the august Susie Carrie Snow sent for me and talked high art and city beautiful to me until I could taste it.

“And all that sopped up the rest of the week when I ought to have been delivering pork steaks and string-beans at people’s back doors to please Phoebe.  Money grubbing doesn’t appeal to me and I don’t need it, but from now on I’m the busy grub—­until after the ‘no man put asunder’ proclamation.”

“How you can manage to do one really public-spirited job after another, ‘things that count,’ and then elude all the credit for them is more than I can understand, Dave,” said Andrew as he smiled through a blue ring of smoke.  “Some day, if you don’t look out, you’ll be a leading citizen.  In the meantime hustle about those flowers.  Time flies.”

“I’ll send them right up,” said David as he donned his coat and hat and took up his crop.  The hours David spent out of the saddle were those of his indoors occupations.  “I’ll be back soon.  Just fix the flowers; Eph and the cook will do all the rest.  And put the cards on the table any old way.  I want to sit between Phoebe and Caroline Darrah Brown—­well, whose party is it?  You can sit next on either side.”

“Wait a minute, are—­”

“No, I must hurry and go brace up Milly for a pair of minutes.  She wouldn’t promise to come until I insisted on sending a trained nurse to sit with old Mammy Betty and the babies until she got back to ’em.  Billy Bob is as wild as a kid about coming, he hasn’t been anywhere for so long.  I talked a week before I could persuade Milly, but she’s got her glad rags and is as excited as Billy Bob.  I tried to buy that boy twin for Phoebe’s present but Milly said I had better get an old silver and amethyst bracelet.  It’s on my table in the white box.  Bye!” and Kildare departed as far as the front door, but returned to stick his head in the door and say: 

“You’d better put Hob by Caroline Darrah on the other side; he’s savage when he’s crossed.  And tack in Payt opposite her.  I invited Polly the Fluff for you—­she is a débutante and such a coo-child that she’ll just suit a poet.”