“How-dy do!” he said, almost before he had picked himself up. “If you have come to see me on business, I’m sorry to say that I can’t do anything for you to-day.... The fact is, I’m going to a singing-party this evening. And I don’t want to be late.”
“Why—I’m going to a party, too!” Rusty Wren exclaimed.
“You must be mistaken—for there’s to be no party here,” Mr. Frog told him.
“Oh! The party I’m going to will be held somewhere else,” Rusty Wren explained.
“That’s interesting,” said Mr. Frog, as he settled his hat more firmly upon his queerly shaped head. “Who’s having it—if I may ask?”
Rusty Wren looked at the tailor as if he were much surprised.
“Don’t you know about it?” he inquired. “Do you mean to say that my cousin, Long Bill Wren, didn’t invite you?”
For a moment Mr. Frog appeared somewhat taken aback.
“He must have forgotten me,” he murmured. “I haven’t heard a word about his party before.... But I know it’s a mistake,” he added, with a smile.
“No doubt!” said Rusty Wren politely. “I was going to Cousin Bill’s home as soon as you had measured me for a new Sunday coat,” he explained.