"Well, I can't change the date of my birthday, dear, and I didn't think of a masked ball until yesterday. If we send out invitations for one hundred and fifty guests, that number will be sufficient. Everyone can't have other engagements on that especial night."
"I don't know so much about that," said Frances in her deep voice, which was of the contralto species. "People work desperately hard during the season."
Vernon laughed and handed back the list. "Who was it said that life would be endurable if it were not for its festivals?" he remarked, smiling. "I never see the weary faces of pleasure-seekers during the season but what I think of that saying."
"Well, never mind." Ida tapped her white teeth with the pencil she was using, and cast her eyes over the list of guests. "Can you suggest four gentlemen, Arthur?"
"There are two who would certainly come, and whose names you have unaccountably omitted."
Miss Hest raised her strongly marked eyebrows. "Why unaccountably?"
"I am thinking of Colonel Towton and Mr. Maunders."
"There," said Frances, turning gravely to her friend, "I told you everyone would notice that you had left them out."
"Am I supposed to be everyone?" asked Vernon, smiling again. "But why have you left Maunders and Towton out, may I ask? I thought they were such friends."
Ida sat down and coloured through her fair skin. "I wished to ask Conny Maunders, but my father won't hear of it. Why, I don't know."