"It is good of you to ask us, Mrs. Blithers. The Prince is planning to leave for Washington within the next few days and I fear—"
"Oh, you must prevail upon him to remain over, my Dear Mrs. King. We are to have a lot of people up from Newport and Tuxedo—you know the crowd—it's the real crowd—and I'm sure he will enjoy meeting them. Mr. Blithers has arranged for a special train to bring them up—a train de luxe, you may be sure, both as to equipment and occupant. Zabo's orchestra, too. A notion seized us last night to give the ball, which accounts for the short notice. It's the way we do everything—on a minute's notice. I think they're jollier if one doesn't go through the agony of a month's preparation, don't you? Nearly every one has wired acceptance, so we're sure to have a lot of nice people. Loads of girls,—you know the ones I mean,—and Mr. Blithers is trying to arrange a sparring match between those two great prizefighters,—you know the ones, Mrs. King,—just to give us poor women a chance to see what a real man looks like in—I mean to say, what marvellous specimens they are, don't you know. Now please tell the Prince that he positively cannot afford to miss a real sparring match. Every one is terribly excited over it, and naturally we are keeping it very quiet. Won't it be a lark? My daughter thinks it's terrible, but she is finicky. One of them is a negro, isn't he?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"You can imagine how splendid they must be when I tell you that Mr. Blithers is afraid they won't come up for less than fifteen thousand dollars. Isn't it ridiculous?"
"Perfectly," said Mrs. King.
"Of course, we shall insist on the Prince receiving with us. He is our piece de resistance. You—"
"I'm sure it will be awfully jolly, Mrs. Blithers. What did you say?"
"I beg pardon?"
"I'm sorry. I was speaking to the Prince. He just called up stairs to me."
"What does he say?"