And when, on entering the dining room, I saw how the guests were
placed, I could have hugged Blakely's mother. For where do you
suppose she had put Dad? On her left! Of course the duke, as guest
of honor, was on her right; and I sat next to the duke, and Blakely
sat next to me.
By placing us so, Mrs. Porter had supplied the balance of the table
with a topic of conversation, always a desirable addition to a
dinner party; I noted with amusement the lifted eyebrows, the
expressions of wonder and resentment on the faces of some of the
guests. Nor did it seem to add to their pleasure that their hostess
devoted herself to Dad, while the duke and Blakely developed a
spirited, though friendly, rivalry as to which should monopolize
little Mimi.
But the real sensation was to occur when the champagne was poured.
(I could hardly believe my eyes, of my ears, either). For who should
rise in his place but Dad! Yes, there he stood, the old darling, a
brimming champagne glass in his hand, a beatific expression on his
face. And this is what he was saying:
"Our hostess has asked me to do something, which is to announce the
engagement of my daughter and her son. Let us drink to their
happiness.
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