“Exactly,” Babbie took up the tale. “If she didn’t, the Tally-ho Catering Department would be done for. Miss Raymond is a woman of the world, Madeline. She met Mr. Joram in formal London society, and she wants to——”
“Do a perfectly good return engagement,” finished Madeline calmly. “All right, only she’s wasting the chance of a lifetime. Tell her so, please, Betty, with my compliments. To pay for a Tally-ho-ish dinner, and then get yellow roses and crests and regular food—it doesn’t strike me as a square deal. But if that’s what they want, that’s what we furnish. I must design a Tally-ho Catering Department folder, explaining that we are all things to all men, from a dignified dinner without features for Miss Raymond to a Stocking Factory Twelfth Night Masque, all features, for Mr. Thayer. By the way, Betty, we ought by rights to have begun on Mr. Thayer.”
“He’s too busy getting ready to be married,” laughed Betty. “He isn’t interested in factory parties this year.”
“Oh, dear, that’s because of me,” explained Babbie sadly. “But even a philanthropist has to be absorbingly interested in his new house and his approaching wedding and his honeymoon. After that,”—Babbie sighed joyously,—“after that you’ll have to help us and the Stocking Factory to live happy ever after. And we shall give lots of stunty parties, and we shall need lots of catering, with features.”
“Catering without features charged extra,” Madeline read from the folder she was busily composing, “to compensate the company for the loss of their customary diversions.”
“Madeline!” sighed Babbie resignedly. “What perfect foolishness! You know features are great bothers to think up.”
“Also great fun,” retorted Madeline. “And I’ll bet you a cookie—a frosted one of Cousin Kate’s—that even the intellectual Miss Raymond would like some features, if she only stopped to consider the matter.”
“But we can’t be sure that she would,” Betty explained again patiently. “And so isn’t it safer to act like any other Catering Company and stick to the Dignified Dinner program?”
“Certainly,” Madeline agreed promptly. “Keeping my terribly clever place-cards concealed about your person, and my latest Palmist and Crystal-gazer stunt on the other end of the Tally-ho’s telephone line. But I bet you a dozen Cousin Kate’s cookies that if she is given her choice, Miss Raymond will vote for the features.”
“I probably shan’t see her until after dinner,” Betty explained. “So she can’t be given her choice. But I’ll take the clever place-cards along. And if you can read palms, Madeline Ayres, begin on mine.”