"No; I should think not," answered Mary. "You mean as a guest? Why in the world do you want him?"
"He could entertain the bishop. We could make that his special job. Come on; let's do it."
Mary smiled, but shook her head decisively.
"Your guests would never forgive you if they discovered that you had invited your valet. You see, such things are not done."
She had slipped into the employment of that little phrase until it came to her lips as a reason for almost any prohibition that dealt with the social code.
"But I want to do it as a special favor to Pete," urged Bill.
"Or as a special penance, perhaps," said Mary, with a wise look. "No; and besides, your valet will doubtless have his duties that evening. He'll be needed in the gentlemen's dressing-room."
Bill picked up a morning paper and turned to the sporting page. Suddenly he looked up.
"Say, if you can squeeze a bishop in at this stage of the game I ought to be entitled to invite somebody else, hadn't I?"
"Of course. I asked for suggestions."