Dodo gathered up her letters.
"Trouble will now spread for Baron Cookham," she remarked. "I think I shall telephone to him. He hates being telephoned to like a common person."
"May I listen?" asked Jack.
"Do, darling, and suggest insults in a low voice."
Dodo sent a message that Lord Cookham was required in person at the degrading instrument, and having secured his presence talked in her best telephone-voice, slow and calm and clear-cut.
"Good morning," she said. "I have received your letter. Yes, isn't it a lovely day? I have been riding. No, not writing. Riding. Horse. About your letter. I am giving a ball on the sixteenth of July, and I shall be delighted to ask your friend. Of course I shan't give another ball for him, but if the sixteenth will do, there we are. And what a delicious joke of yours about my sending you a list of my guests! I think I shall ask for a list of the guests when I go to a dance. A lovely idea."
Dodo paused a moment, listening.
"I don't see the slightest difference," she said. "And I can't give you a choice of days, because I haven't got one to give you."
She paused again, and hastily put her hand over the receiver.