"Only," he objected, "please, I'll have to ask me grand-mudder!"
"Oh, of course," said James gravely. "You couldn't go without her consent. I'll have a talk with her myself, if you like."
Stodger seemed to think that would not be necessary. It ended by James taking a small apartment and installing Stodger as chore boy under the command of an eagle-eyed Swedish woman, where he could divide his time between cleaning shoes and attending high school.
October arrived; it was ten months since James had seen Beatrice and he decided it was now time to see her again, to make the sight of her and Harry together chase the last shreds of regret from his mind. So he wrote to Aunt Selina announcing that he would spend his next free Saturday night in New Haven.
It happened that Aunt Selina had fixed upon that night to have some people to dinner. When she learned that James would be one of the number that idea vanished in smoke and from its ashes, phoenix-like, arose the conception of making it a real occasion; not dinner, nor people-to-dinner, but frankly, out-and-out, A Dinner, like that. She arranged to have eighteen, and sent out invitations accordingly.
James did not see Beatrice until nearly dinner-time on the Saturday night. He came downstairs at five minutes or so before the hour and discovered Harry standing before the drawing-room fireplace with Aunt Selina placidly sitting on a sofa and Beatrice flying about giving a finishing touch here and there. There was no strain or uneasiness about the meeting; his "Hello, Beatrice," received by her almost on the wing as she passed on some slight preprandial mission, was a model of cordial familiarity. And if she had not been too preoccupied to let the meeting be in the least awkward, Harry, gaily chattering from the chimney-piece, would have been enough to prevent it anyway.
"Well, here we all are," Harry was saying, "and nobody here to entertain. Of course if we had all happened to be a minute or two late there would have been a crowd of people waiting for us. We won't complain, though; being too early is the one great social sin. Yes, Aunt Selina dear, I know people didn't think so in the Hayes administration ... Beatrice, do stop pecking at those roses; they look very well indeed. You make me feel as if my hair wasn't properly brushed, or my shirt-front spotted. This suspense is telling on me; why doesn't somebody come?"