"A whole month?" I queried gaspingly.
Miss Perfoozle turned upon me suddenly. I had felt that she didn't quite appreciate me at my just worth. Something in my last gasp appealed to her unpleasantly.
"I trust you are not jesting," she remarked in a lemon tone.
"No," I said shortly, moving toward the front door, "I never jest. But you have come too late, Miss Perfoozle. We are breaking up housekeeping to-morrow and sail for Europe next day, to be gone for five years and three months. You might take our names for a cook in five years and three months from to-morrow. We shall visit London, Paris, Rome, Vienna, Berlin, Dresden, Jersey City, Poughkeepsie, Schenectady—"
"You allowed me to waste my precious time here?" she asked in genuine, unadulterated anger. "You permitted me to devote an evening to the revelation of my plans and hopes, when you knew—you were sure—you—"
"We had nothing better to do, I assure you, dear Miss Perfoozle," I said blithely. "You have amused us immensely. You must be going? Yet it is early. You will go? My dear madam, of course, we may not detain you. Will you take our best wishes to Birdie, and the child, and—"
Miss Perfoozle's face was horrid to look at. Letitia turned from her in dismay and whispered a husky "Don't!" in my ear. The black glacé hands looked like claws. The representative of the Society for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Cooks in New York City resembled a Fury, baffled. We opened the door and clicked her out. For the first time in many days we burst into a peal of laughter. We simply shook. We howled. Such a good time had, a few hours ago, seemed impossible.
"I believe you have a sense of humor, after all, Archie," said Letitia, drying the tears from her eyes and sinking into a chair.
"Not yet, Letitia, not yet," I demurred, weak from mirth, "but if this thing keeps up I'm awfully afraid that the dreadful curse will be visited on us both."