It was a wonderful party. Mr. Smith enjoyed it hugely. He saw almost everybody he knew in Hillerton, and many that he did not know. He heard the Blaisdells and their new wealth discussed from all viewpoints, and he heard some things about the missing millionaire benefactor that were particularly interesting—to him. The general opinion seemed to be that the man was dead; though a few admitted that there was a possibility, of course, that he was merely lost somewhere in darkest South America and would eventually get back to civilization, certainly long before the time came to open the second letter of instructions. Many professed to know the man well, through magazine and newspaper accounts (there were times when Mr. Smith adjusted more carefully the smoked glasses which he was still wearing); and some had much to say of the millionaire's characteristics, habits, and eccentricities; all of which Mr. Smith enjoyed greatly.

Then, too, there were the Blaisdells themselves. They were all there, even to Miss Flora, who was in dead black; and Mr. Smith talked with them all.

Miss Flora told him that she was so happy she could not sleep nights, but that she was rather glad she couldn't sleep, after all, for she spent the time mourning for poor Mr. Fulton, and thinking how good he had been to her. And THAT made it seem as if she was doing SOMETHING for him. She said, Yes, oh, yes, she was going to stop black mourning in six months, and go into grays and lavenders; and she was glad Mr. Smith thought that was long enough, quite long enough for the black, but she could not think for a moment of putting on colors now, as he suggested. She said, too, that she had decided not to go to Niagara for the present. And when he demurred at this, she told him that really she would rather not. It would be warmer in the spring, and she would much rather wait till she could enjoy every minute without feeling that—well, that she was almost dancing over the poor man's grave, as it were.

Mr. Smith did not urge her after that. He turned away, indeed, rather precipitately—so precipitately that Miss Flora wondered if she could have said anything to offend him.

Mr. Smith talked next with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell. Mrs. Jane was looking particularly well that evening. Her dress was new, and in good style, yet she in some way looked odd to Mr. Smith. In a moment he knew the reason: she wore no apron. Mr. Smith had never seen her without an apron before. Even on the street she wore a black silk one. He complimented her gallantly on her fine appearance. But Mrs. Jane did not smile. She frowned.