Forrest looked the invitations over, smiling to himself, took out two unaddressed envelopes and put them into his pocket, closed the door and strolled away. In his own room he took them out again, and wrote upon them in his best hand, "Peter Bell, Esq.," and "Miss Jane Bell," adding the street and number, and stamping and sealing them, still with the laugh in the corners of his mischievous mouth.
The next day, when Olive's invitations went into the letter-box on the corner, they were shortly followed by two of which the giver of the party had no knowledge.
It happened that the early morning mail in Gay Street always arrived just before the departure of the family workers for their place of business. So when Nancy, after answering the postman's ring, came back to the table with the mail, both Peter and Jane, just finishing breakfast, were on hand to receive it.
"Whose handwriting can this be, I wonder?" speculated Jane, intently studying the dashing address.
Peter glanced over her shoulder. "Same as mine," he observed, ripping his envelope open. "Looks like a wedding invitation; but since none of our friends, Janey, are so much as thinking of getting married-- Hello, what's this?"
"Oh, why--" Jane was stammering, eagerly. "O Petey--how lovely--why-- There, I knew she was n't as cold and proud as you thought her!"
"Who--what?" demanded Nancy, with excitement.
"Miss Olive Townsend," explained Jane, flushing with pleasure.
"What! Miss Worthington Square invited you two every-day folks to her party?" Ross inquired, getting up from the table and reaching for his hat. "Pete, you 'll lose your car if you stand mooning over that thing."
"How did you know she was to have a party?"