"Well," said Mr. Black, "I just stopped in to say that unless you could give me that dinner this very minute, I shall have to go hungry for the next five weeks."
"Oh!" cried Bettie, in dismay, "why?"
"Because I'm going to Washington tonight by the six o'clock train and I shall be gone a whole month—perhaps longer."
"Oh, dear," cried Bettie, "we just couldn't have you tonight. We're papering the dining-room, and besides we haven't a single thing to eat but some stale cake that Mrs. Pike gave us."
"I strongly suspect," said Mr. Black, smiling over Bettie's head at Mr. Blossom, "that you don't really want me to dinner."
"Oh, we do, we do," assured Bettie, earnestly, "but we just can't have company tonight. If you'll just let us know exactly when you're coming home, you'll find a beautiful dinner ready for you."
"All right," said Mr. Black, "I'll telegraph. I'll say: 'My dear Miss Bettykins, of Dandelion Cottage: It will give me great pleasure to dine with you tomorrow—or would you rather have me say the day after tomorrow?—evening. Yours most devotedly and-so-forth.'"
"Yes, yes," cried Bettie, "that will be all right, but you must give us three days to get ready in."
After all, however, it was Mabel that sent the telegram, and it was a very different one.