"Not for this kind of an entertainment," explained Theodore. "This is a sudden inspiration of mine—planned 'on the spur of the instant,' as Mrs. Canary would say. If you'll let me use the gasoline range to-night, that's all I'll ask. I'm going to give a pancake party."
"What's a pancake party?" inquired Miss Billy.
"Hist!" returned Theodore mysteriously. "'Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Ascalon,' is my motto. The ghosts and the witches walk abroad to-night, and we shall fitly celebrate. So much you shall know and no more. Miss Billy, if you offer to make me a rarebit in your chafing dish to-night, I shall courteously accept; and mother, a bottle of stuffed olives, three bunches of radishes and a fruit cake would be delicate attentions on your part."
"Whom are you going to invite?" asked Beatrice.
"Oh, Margaret, of course, and Lindsay, and our friend John Thomas, and I suppose Mary Jane."
"But that won't make enough men to go around."
"Oh, you and Mary Jane can divide Mr. Lindsay," said Ted carelessly. "He's big enough to make two."
Beatrice left the room, and Ted went to his father's desk, where he laboured painfully over the following poetical effusion:
"Theodore Lee would like to see you at his home on Friday. Please come at eight, and do not wait to make yourself too tidy. For spells and tricks are apt to fix your clothes in sad condition; and folks, I ween, on Hallowe'en are not on exhibition."