morning. Angela and Connie had another engagement and couldn’t possibly come.
“That’s too bad, Lo. Who can you ask now?”
Lois looked puzzled for a minute and then exclaimed:
“I have it! Why can’t Uncle Roddy” (she had called him Uncle since the dinner at the Sleepy Hollow Inn), “and that funny man, Mr. Whittington, come?”
No sooner said than done. The long-suffering operator connected them with the office in Wall Street occupied by George B. Whittington, broker. He was a little taken back at the invitation, but answered that he would be “pleased as punch and would meet them at the theater.” Uncle Roddy also accepted with pleasure.
Betty arrived Saturday morning, and the three of them chattered like magpies until luncheon. They drove to the theater in the motor and found the two men there to meet them. Betty was introduced to Mr. Whittington and she nicknamed him The Lord Mayor of London at once, after Dick of the same name in the nursery tales. By the time the curtain went up they were the best of friends.
Of course they adored Peter Pan and Wendy. They laughed a good deal and cried a little and waved their handkerchiefs madly when Peter asked them if they believed in fairies.
“This is quite the nicest party I ever attended,” Mr. Whittington insisted as the curtain fell after
the last act. “Why can’t we have another one just like it, soon?”
“But, Mr. Lord Mayor of London,” interrupted Betty, “where would we ever find another Peter Pan?”