demurred at the invitation; but I explained to her that Franching
was very well off and influential, and we could not afford to

offend him. "And we are sure to get a good dinner and a good glass
of champagne." "Which never agrees with you!" Carrie replied,

sharply. I regarded Carrie's observation as unsaid. Mr. Franching
asked us to wire a reply. As he had said nothing about dress in

the letter, I wired back: "With pleasure. Is it full dress?" and
by leaving out our name, just got the message within the sixpence.

Got back early to give time to dress, which we received a telegram
instructing us to do. I wanted Carrie to meet me at Franching's

house; but she would not do so, so I had to go home to fetch her.
What a long journey it is from Holloway to Peckham! Why do people

live such a long way off? Having to change 'buses, I allowed
plenty of time - in fact, too much; for we arrived at twenty

minutes to seven, and Franching, so the servant said, had only just
gone up to dress. However, he was down as the clock struck seven;

he must have dressed very quickly.
I must say it was quite a distinguished party, and although we did

not know anybody personally, they all seemed to be quite swells.
Franching had got a professionalwaiter, and evidently spared no

expense. There were flowers on the table round some fairy-lamps
and the effect, I must say, was exquisite. The wine was good and

there was plenty of champagne, concerning which Franching said he
himself, never wished to taste better. We were ten in number, and

a MENU card to each. One lady said she always preserved the MENU
and got the guests to write their names on the back.

We all of us followed her example, except Mr. Huttle, who was of
course the important guest.

The dinner-party consisted of Mr. Franching, Mr. Hardfur Huttle,
Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Hillbutter, Mrs. Field, Mr. and Mrs. Purdick,

Mr. Pratt, Mr. R. Kent, and, last but not least, Mr. and Mrs.
Charles Pooter. Franching said he was sorry he had no lady for me

to take in to dinner. I replied that I preferred it, which I
afterwards thought was a very uncomplimentary observation to make.

I sat next to Mrs. Field at dinner. She seemed a well-informed
lady, but was very deaf. It did not much matter, for Mr. Hardfur

Huttle did all the talking. He is a marvellously intellectual man
and says things which from other people would seem quite alarming.

How I wish I could remember even a quarter of his brilliant
conversation. I made a few little reminding notes on the MENU

card.
One observation struck me as being absolutely powerful - though not

to my way of thinking of course. Mrs. Purdick happened to say "You
are certainly unorthodox, Mr. Huttle." Mr. Huttle, with a peculiar

expression (I can see it now) said in a slow rich voice: "Mrs.
Purdick, 'orthodox' is a grandiloquent word implying sticking-in-

the-mud. If Columbus and Stephenson had been orthodox, there would
neither have been the discovery of America nor the steam-engine."

There was quite a silence. It appeared to me that such teaching
was absolutely dangerous, and yet I felt - in fact we must all have

felt - there was no answer to the argument. A little later on,
Mrs. Purdick, who is Franching's sister and also acted as hostess,

rose from the table, and Mr. Huttle said: "Why, ladies, do you
deprive us of your company so soon? Why not wait while we have our

cigars?"
The effect was electrical. The ladies (including Carrie) were in

no way inclined to be deprived of Mr. Huttle's fascinating society,
and immediately resumed their seats, amid much laughter and a

little chaff. Mr. Huttle said: "Well, that's a real good sign;
you shall not be insulted by being called orthodox any longer."

Mrs. Purdick, who seemed to be a bright and rather sharp woman,
said: "Mr. Huttle, we will meet you half-way - that is, till you

get half-way through your cigar. That, at all events, will be the
happy medium."

I shall never forget the effect the words, "happy medium," had upon
him. He was brilliant and most daring in his interpretation of the

words. He positively alarmed me. He said something like the
following: "Happy medium, indeed. Do you know 'happy medium' are

two words which mean 'miserable mediocrity'? I say, go first class
or third; marry a duchess or her kitchenmaid. The happy medium

means respectability, and respectability means insipidness. Does
it not, Mr. Pooter?"

I was so taken aback by being personally appealed to, that I could
only bow apologetically, and say I feared I was not competent to

offer an opinion. Carrie was about to say something; but she was
interrupted, for which I was rather pleased, for she is not clever

at argument, and one has to be extra clever to discuss a subject
with a man like Mr. Huttle.

He continued, with an amazingeloquence that made his unwelcome
opinions positivelyconvincing: "The happy medium is nothing more

or less than a vulgar half-measure. A man who loves champagne and,
finding a pint too little, fears to face a whole bottle and has

recourse to an imperial pint, will never build a Brooklyn Bridge or
an Eiffel Tower. No, he is half-hearted, he is a half-measure -

respectable - in fact, a happy medium, and will spend the rest of
his days in a suburban villa with a stucco-column portico,

resembling a four-post bedstead."
We all laughed.

"That sort of thing," continued Mr. Huttle, "belongs to a soft man,
with a soft beard with a soft head, with a made tie that hooks on."

This seemed rather personal and twice I caught myself looking in
the glass of the cheffoniere; for I had on a tie that hooked on -

and why not? If these remarks were not personal they were rather
careless, and so were some of his subsequentobservations, which

must have made both Mr. Franching and his guests rather
uncomfortable. I don't think Mr. Huttle meant to be personal, for

he added; "We don't know that class here in this country: but we
do in America, and I've no use for them."

Franching several times suggested that the wine should be passed
round the table, which Mr. Huttle did not heed; but continued as if

he were giving a lecture:
"What we want in America is your homes. We live on wheels. Your

simple, quiet life and home, Mr. Franching, are charming. No
display, no pretension! You make no difference in your dinner, I

dare say, when you sit down by yourself and when you invite us.
You have your own personal attendant - no hired waiter to breathe

on the back of your head."
I saw Franching palpably wince at this.

Mr. Huttle continued: "Just a small dinner with a few good things,
such as you have this evening. You don't insult your guests by

sending to the grocer for champagne at six shillings a bottle."
I could not help thinking of "Jackson Freres" at three-and-six!

"In fact," said Mr. Huttle, "a man is little less than a murderer
who does. That is the province of the milksop, who wastes his

evening at home playing dominoes with his wife. I've heard of
these people. We don't want them at this table. Our party is well

selected. We've no use for deaf old women, who cannot follow
intellectual conversation."

All our eyes were turned to Mrs. Field, who fortunately, being
deaf, did not hear his remarks; but continued smiling approval.

"We have no representative at Mr. Franching's table," said Mr.
Huttle, "of the unenlightened frivolousmatron, who goes to a

second class dance at Bayswater and fancies she is in Society.
Society does not know her; it has no use for her."