"And now, gentlemen, as we have exchanged apologies all around, please be seated."
Quimby immediately bounced up from the music-stool, on which, in his agitation, he had involuntarily dropped.
"Oh, no!" he exclaimed hastily. "We—we did did not come to dinner, you know!"
Cyn smiled at Quimby's anxiety to disclaim intentions no one thought of attributing to him, and turning to Mr. Stanwood, asked, thereby greatly scandalizing Nattie,
"But supposing you were invited to stay and share our banquet, would you?"
"Were I sure the invitation was heartfelt, I should be sorely tempted; wouldn't you, Quimby?" Mr. Stanwood replied, easily.
Poor Quimby twirled his thumbs confusedly, and murmured something about leaving the ladies to enjoy their "feast" alone.
"We have eatables enough for six, as Nat was just now intimating," went on Cyn, who certainly had a touch of true Bohemianism in her composition, as well as Jo Norton. "But our dishes, 'ay, there's the rub,'" and she laughingly held up the coffee-urn, while the less adaptable Nattie thought apprehensively of the propensity of things to cool.
Undaunted by the urn, Mr. Stanwood said, with humorous wistfulness, but looking at Nattie,
"You won't force us to eat the dishes, will you? and that steak smells so nice, and I haven't had any dinner!"