“Not I,” replied Madame Almansa. “You know, father, I’m to stay here and do the honours at your dinner.”
“Yes, yes, Susie—I remember.” Senator Ballantyne seemed pleased, but uneasy. “But you must be careful—very careful. Your grand airs will frighten ’em.”
Ysobel laughed. “Mamma and I are going to Mrs. Pope,” she said, “and Lord Frothingham, too. And then we all go to the White House dance afterward.”
“No, the White House dance is to-morrow night,” said Madame Almansa. “I am going.”
“Well, well—no matter,” interposed Senator Ballantyne. “All I want is to be sure that you get out of the way before my constituents come. Your mother ought to be ashamed of herself to desert me. But I suppose they won’t mind it so long as Sue is here.”
“What time’s your dinner, pa?” asked Ysobel.
“Half-past six,” replied the Senator, and he turned to Frothingham: “At home they have dinner—no, they call it supper—at five o’clock.”
“That’s ’way, ’way out West, Lord Frothingham,” explained Ysobel, “where papa and mamma come from.”
“And you, too, young lady,” said her father teasingly. “You were born there.”
“Yes, but I was caught young and taken to France,” retorted Ysobel. “I spoke French before I spoke English.”