"Let me laugh again, Betty!" he begged. "That's too much, you know. Fancy our small Doris having the—er—audacity to stand up and audibly hint that Mrs. J. Mortimer Van Duser's room would be more acceptable than her company. I wish I'd been there to see and hear."
"Mrs. Van Duser said that it was a most interesting example of ideation—whatever that is," said his Elizabeth rather proudly. "She's writing a paper for the Ontological Club, and she's going to put all three of the children in."
"As what—Concrete examples of the genus enfant terrible?" he inquired cautiously.
Elizabeth was surveying her table with satisfied eyes. She did not appear to have heard his question.
"It may be hard work to take care of all that silver and glass we had for wedding presents, Sam," she said thoughtfully; "but on occasions it is useful."
"Yes; if the foreigner in the kitchen didn't too often turn our dancing into mourning by smashing it."
"I'm not going to let Celia wash one of these dishes," she told him firmly.
"Who is going to wash them?" he asked resignedly.
"I am—after Mr. Hickey's gone and Evelyn's in bed."