Aunt Mary had been gay in the first part of the
week,--gayer and gayer as the week progressed, but that final crowning
night was indubitably the gayest of all. If you doubt this read on--read
on--and be convinced.
They began with Burnett's dinner in the private room. No matter where the
private room was, for it really wasn't a private room at all--it was a
suite of rooms borrowed and arranged especially for that one occasion.
They gathered there at eight o'clock and began with oysters served on a
large brass tray in a half-dim Turkish room where incense sticks burned
about and queer daggers held up the curtains. The oysters were served on
their arrival and the megaphones stood like extinguishers over each with
the name cards tied to the small end. The effect was really unique. Aunt
Mary had one, too, and they were all rejoiced at her delight in the
scheme, and a few seconds after they were doubly rejoiced over its success
for no one had to speak loud--the megaphones did it all, producing a lovely
clamor which deafened all those who could hear and caused Aunt Mary to
feel that she heard with the rest.
Amidst the cheerful din they exchanged such very wild remarks as oysters
always inspire and each and all were mutually content at the effect
thereof. Then they finished, and Burnett rose at once, flung back the
portieres, and led them in upon their soup which stood smoking on a large
card table in the next room. There were boutonnieres with the soup, and
violets for Aunt Mary, and again they used the megaphones and again the
conversation partook of the customary conversation which soup produces.
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