"That boy! That perfectly irresponsible boy! He needs some one to look after him."
Nort's idea was not long in bearing fruit. Harriet found the letter in the mail box addressed to both of us in Nort's handwriting. She brought it in, tearing it open curiously.
"I can't conceive—addressed to both of us."
She finally opened it and produced a card neatly printed with these words:
Fergus MacGregor
and
Norton Carr
request the pleasure of
your company at dinner
Friday evening, April twenty-third,