The conversation turned meanwhile on the way the summer had been spent, and much delicate gossip was broached or hinted at, but not entered into.  Next the talk was about dress.  The names of the several fashionable dressmakers were quoted as authority for this, and denunciatory of that.  Congratulations were exchanged:  ’How charmingly you look—­how sweet that is—­what a lovely bonnet!’

All this Hiram Meeker drank in with open ears and eyes, for from where he was sitting, he could see everything that was going on, as well as hear every word.

One thing particularly impressed him.  He felt that never before had he been in such society.  The ladies of Dr. Chellis’s church were intelligent, refined, and well bred, but here was TON—­that unmistakable, unquestionable ton which arrogates everything unto itself, claims everything, and with a certain class is everything.

I need not say, to a person of Hiram’s keen and appreciative sense, the picture before him was most attractive.  How perfect was every point in it!  What minute and fastidious attention had been devoted to every article of dress!  How every article had been specially designed to set off and adorn!  The hat, how charming; the hair, how exquisitely coiffed; the shawl, how magnificent; the dress how rich!  The gloves, of what admirable tint, and how neatly fitted; and how wonderfully were the walking boots adapted to display foot and ankle!  And these did not distinguish one, but every one present.

I do not wonder Hiram was carried away by the spectacle.  There is something very overpowering in such a scene.  Who is sufficient to resist its seductive influences?

In the midst of what might be called a trance, when Hiram’s senses were wrapt in a sort of charmed Elysium, the Rev. Augustus Myrtle entered the room.  He did not look toward Hiram, but passed directly into the back parlor.  He walked along, not as if he were stepping on eggs, but very smoothly and noiselessly, as if treading (as he was doing) on the finest of velvet carpets.

Instantly what a flutter!  How they ran up to him, ambitious to get the first salute, and to proffer the first congratulation!  How gracefully the Rev. Augustus Myrtle received each!  Two or three there were (there were reasons, doubtless) whose cheeks he kissed decorously, yet possibly with some degree of relish.  The rest had to content themselves with shaking hands.  Many and various were the compliments he received.  Their ‘delight to see him, how well he was looking,’ and so forth.

Presently he started to leave them.

’Oh, you must not run off so soon, we shall follow you to your sanctum.’

‘An engagement,’ replied Mr. Myrtle, glancing into the other room.

A score of handsome eyes were turned in the direction where Hiram was seated, listening with attention, and watching everything.  Discomfited by such an array, he colored, coughed, and nervously shifted his position.  Some laughed.  The rest looked politely indifferent.