With these new and younger elements the talk varied a little.

They discussed last night's party, the supper, the dresses, the people, and then the probabilities of to-night's party, the people, the dresses, the supper.

And then Dick made a sensation by saying right out, that he had just met Mr.Upjohn on Main Street with Mrs.Bruce, holding a parasol gallantly over her head.

And everybody looked at once at Mrs.
Upjohn, and then back at the graceless Dick, and an awful silence succeeded, broken by Mrs.Upjohn's reaching out her hand and saying in the tone of a Miss Cushman on the stage: "Dick, dear, I'll take another cookie." If Mr.Upjohn chose to walk down town shielding women's complexions for them, why in the world should she trouble herself about it, beyond making sure that he did not by mistake take her parasol for the kindly office?
And so the talk went on, people coming and people going, and Mrs.Lane did up a whole basketful of work undisturbed, and Phebe inwardly chafed and fumed and longed for dinner-time, that at last the ceaseless, aimless chatter might come to an end.
She went to the party that night, because in Joppa everybody had to go when asked.

To refuse was considered tantamount to an open declaration of war, unless in case of illness, and then it almost required a doctor's certificate to get one off.