"And never asked for me?"
"I told him you begged to be excused."
"You told him I—now see here, Margaret. There is such a thing as going too far, and this is an example of it. 'Beg to be excused'! What will he think of me? Where is he now?"
"He has gone on to Wayback. But he never will have the sense to telegraph. That is why I am going."
"Did you quarrel?"
"Well—we were n't exactly friendly."
"Oh!—oh!—oh!" The three exclamations were long-drawn, with pauses between them and in three different keys.
"Aunty!" cried Margaret, furiously, stamping her foot. "How dare you insinuate—I said I was going to telegraph!"
"All right, my dear. Have it your own way. I 'll immolate myself on the altar of friendship: in this case, a particularly uncomfortable bed. Please remember, Margaret, as you speed away on your errand of avarice, I said a particularly uncomfortable bed."
Margaret went out and slammed the door. Mrs. Blake chuckled until she laughed, and laughed until she gasped for breath and was obliged to loosen her corsets. "I am as bad as Margie," she sighed; "I don't know when I am well off. Now I shall have to stay marooned in this pesky room until Margie returns. I never can fasten these outrageous things without help."