“Suppose,” suggested Spindler, with a sudden lugubrious apprehension,—“suppose they shouldn't come?”
“Have no fear of that,” said Mrs. Price, with a frank laugh.
“Or ef they was dead,” continued Spindler.
“They couldn't all be dead,” said the widow cheerfully.
“I've written to another cousin by marriage,” said Spindler dubiously, “in case of accident; I didn't think of him before, because he was rich.”
“And have you ever seen him either, Mr. Spindler?” asked the widow, with a slight mischievousness.
“Lordy! No!” he responded, with unaffected concern.
Only one mistake was made by Mrs. Price in her arrangements for the party. She had noticed what the simple-minded Spindler could never have conceived,—the feeling towards him held by his old associates, and had tactfully suggested that a general invitation should be extended to them in the evening.
“You can have refreshments, you know, too, after the dinner, and games and music.”
“But,” said the unsophisticated host, “won't the boys think I'm playing it rather low down on them, so to speak, givin' 'em a kind o' second table, as ef it was the tailings after a strike?”