“What an outlook!” Ellen laughed, coming over to her sister, and stopping on the way to help little Bob insert a refractory napkin in its silver ring.  “Perhaps I’d better not waste much time trying to make him over.  He really suits me pretty well, as he is,—­and it doesn’t strike me he’s so different from the average man, when it comes to receptions.  Is Jim enthusiastic over this one?”

“Oh, Jim isn’t making any fuss about it,” evaded Martha.  “He’ll be good and amiable, when the time comes.  Of course, any man likes better just having a group of men smoking round the fire, or sitting down to a stag dinner, but Jim understands the necessity of doing some things just because they’re expected.  I really think that having a perfectly informal affair of this sort is letting them off easily.  They might have had to stand a series of ‘At Homes.’”

“Not in this little place.  Everybody would have come to the first one, and there would have been nobody left for the rest.  As it is, you will have a houseful, won’t you?  It’s lovely of you to do it, Martha dear, and Red and I will be good, and stand in line as long as you want us.”

“And you won’t let him get away?”

“He won’t try,—­though if an urgent call comes, it’s not I who can keep him.  But don’t worry about that.  It doesn’t always happen, I suppose.”

“Pretty nearly always.  But I’ll hope for the best.”

Mrs. Macauley went away with her head full of plans for the success of the affair she was so sure ought to take place.  It was difficult for her to understand how Ellen, who had known so much of the best social life in a city where there is no end to the round of formal entertaining, could be now as indifferent as Martha understood she really was to all experience of the sort.  It was association with Redfield Pepper Burns which had done it, Martha supposed.  But was he to do all the influencing, and Ellen to do none?  It looked like it—­to Martha.

Left alone with Bob, Ellen made him ready for the little village kindergarten which he had lately begun to attend.  Before he went he put up both arms, and she bent to him.

“I’m going to be a pretty good boy to-day, Aunt Ellen,” said he.  “I promised Uncle Red I would.  But I don’t like to skip in the circle with girls.  Why need I?”

“Would you rather skip with boys, dear?”

“Lots rather.  But the girls keep asking me.  Why do they, when I don’t ask them?”

Ellen smiled down into the questioning little face, its dark eyes looking seriously up into hers through long and curly lashes.  Bob was undoubtedly a handsome little lad, and the reason why the girls—­discerning small creatures, true to their femininity—­should be persistent in inviting him to be their partner was obvious enough.

“Because that’s part of the skipping game, Bobby.  I’d ask the girls sometimes—­and, do you know, I think it would be fine to ask some of the little girls whom the other boys don’t ask.  Do you know any?”