"I must be mistaken about her going back," Patty thought, remembering the luncheon on the eighth, and then, lest she herself might be mistaken in the date, she looked at the invitation again. It read "the eighth," and though Marie's handwriting was scrawly and not very legible, the figure eight was large and plain.
"She ought to have spelled it out," said Patty, who was punctilious in such matters.
"Yes," agreed Nan, "it's those little details that count so much among society people."
"Well, the Homers are dears, but they lack just that little something that makes people know when to spell their figures and when not to. I think it's horrid when people spell a date in ordinary correspondence. But an invitation is another thing. But I say, Nan,—Jiminetty crickets!"
"I'm not sure that date-spelling people ought to refer to those crickets," said Nan, lifting her eyebrows.
"Well, Jerusalem crickets, then! and every kind of crickets in the ornithology or whatever they belong in. But, Nan, I've discovered something!"
"What, Miss Columbus?"
"Oh, I'm a Sherlock Holmes! I'm Mr. D. Tective! What DO you think?"
"If you really want to know, I think you're crazy! jumping around like a wild Indian, and you a this season's debutante!"
"Rubbish! most debutantes are wild Indians at times. But, Nan, I've discovered their secret! Hah! the vilyuns! but they shall be foiled! foiled!! FOILED!!!"