"As I said before, everything depends on whether my daughter wants to remain. If she says she wants to stay, that settles the point so far as I am concerned. If she says she doesn't want to stay, we'll—well, that will settle it also. I say, waiter, can't you hurry the fish along?"
"Certainly, sir. I understood M'sieur to say that there was no hurry—"
"Well, pour the champagne anyway. I think we need it."
Two hours later, Mr. Blithers looked at his watch again. The party was quite gay: at least fifty percent disorderly.
"That train has been in for an hour," said the host. "I guess Maud didn't come. I left word for the hotel to call me up if she arrived—I say, waiter, has there been a telephone message for me?"
"No, M'sieur. We have kept a boy near the telephone all evening, M'sieur. No message."
"I also told 'em to send up any telegram that might come," he informed his wife, who merely lifted her eyebrows. They had been lowered perceptibly in consequence of the ebullience of Pericault's cousins.
The vivacious young women were attracting a great deal of attention to their table. Smart diners in the immediate neighbourhood appeared to be a trifle shocked. Three dignified looking gentlemen, seated near the door, got up and left the room.
"We really must be going," said Mrs. Blithers nervously, who had been watching the three men for some time with something akin to dismay in her soul. She had the sickening notion that they were members of the Cabinet—lords of the realm.
"All right," said Mr. Blithers, "Call the cars up, waiter. Still raining?"