“What did she say?” gurgled Flossie. “Was it something real reezk?”
“Well, it was at a late supper—a studio supper given in her honor,” I confessed.
“Yes-s-s-s,” hissed the Whalens.
“And this actress—she was one of those musical comedy actresses, you know; I remember her part called for a good deal of kicking about in a short Dutch costume—came in rather late, after the performance. She was wearing a regal-looking fur-edged evening wrap, and she still wore all her make-up”—out of the corner of my eye I saw Sis sink back with an air of resignation—“and she threw open the door and said—
“Yes-s-s-s!” hissed the Whalens again, wetting their lips.
“—said: ‘Folks, I just had a wire from mother, up in Maine. The boy has the croup. I’m scared green. I hate to spoil the party, but don’t ask me to stay. I want to go home to the flat and blubber. I didn’t even stop to take my make-up off. My God! If anything should happen to the boy!—Well, have a good time without me. Jim’s waiting outside.’” A silence.
Then—“Who was Jim?” asked Flossie, hopefully.
“Jim was her husband, of course. He was in the same company.”
Another silence.
“Is that all?” demanded Sally from the corner in which she had been glowering.