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success when you have millions, and soon enough

you'll have more money than you know what to do

with."

Bart's dark head bowed. "I don't feel successful.

Not when no one will even come to my party." His

voice cracked as he turned his back.

I got up to go to him. "Will you dance with me,

Bart?" "No!" he snapped, hurrying to a distant window

where he could stand and stare again.

Cindy had a wonderful time with the musicians

and the men and women who'd come to serve Bart's

guests. However, I was deeply downcast, feeling sorry

for Bart, who had counted so much on this. Out of

sympathy for him, all of us but Cindy and the hired

help moved into the front parlor, and there we sat in

our fabulous expensive clothes and waited for guests

who obviously had accepted, only to trick Bart later

on--and in this way tell us what they thought of the

Foxworths on the hill.

The grandfather clock began to toll the hour of

twelve. Bart left the windows and fell upon the sofa

before the guttering log fire. "I should have known it

would turn out this way." He glanced bitterly at Jory.

"Perhaps they came to my birthday party only to see

you dance, and now, when you can't--to hell with

me! They've snubbed me--and they're going to pay

for it," he said in a hard, cold voice, louder and

stronger than Joel's but with the same kind of zealot's

fury. "Before I'm through, there won't be a house in a

twenty-mile radius that doesn't belong to me. I'll ruin