He flattered himself that his appearance would win him favor. Though far from handsome, he thought himself so—a delusion² not uncommon³ among boys and men. He dressed himself very carefully, and at the proper time set out for the house where the party was to be held. He and Stanley Rayburn had agreed to go together.

 

On reaching the house they were directed to the room set apart for gentlemen to arrange their toilet and leave their coats. The mansion⁴ was brilliantly decorated, and as Edgar went up-stairs he felt a thrill of exultation⁵ at being a guest in such a house.

 

He inwardly resolved that he would take advantage of his slight acquaintance with the Gilberts and push himself into intimate friendship. In that way he would be in a position to extend his acquaintance among fashionable people.

 

But a surprise and a shock were in store for him. As he entered the room he saw a boy standing⁶ in front of the mirror brushing his hair. He started in surprise.

 

The figure looked familiar. Could it be! Yes, it was his cousin Mark Mason—Mark Mason, handsomely dressed in party costume, and with a rose in his buttonhole.

 

Mark turned round to see who were the newcomers.

 

"Good evening, Edgar," said Mark.

 

"You here!" exclaimed Edgar, in unqualified amazement⁷.

 

"Yes; I did not expect to have the pleasure of meeting you," answered Mark with an amused smile. He understood Edgar's surprise, and the reason of it.

 

Meanwhile Stanley Rayburn stood by in silence.

 

"Introduce me to your friend, Edgar," he said, for he was attracted by Mark's frank, handsome face.

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