"I am not at home, Pierre," she announced.
"Perfectly, Madame," replied the menial, as though the absence were self-evident.
Mrs. Penfield mused and sipped.
"Some women are so inconsiderate when they are old," she said remindingly.
"And so are most men when they are young," rejoined the lady of the cushions, "and Jack, though nice in many ways, is no exception. When I ask him to help by having unexpected men who must be fed to luncheon at the club, he says champagne at midday gives him apoplexy. And so we have to invite an unknown person to our very nicest dinner."
"What unknown person?" inquired Mrs. Penfield, and Clara sighed.
"A Mr. Hopworthy," she replied. "Fancy, if you can, a man named Hopworthy."
Mrs. Penfield tried and failed.
"What is he like?" she asked.
"I haven't an idea. He called here yesterday at three o'clock—fancy a man who calls at three o'clock! and Jack insisted on inviting him for to-morrow night—and I had to give so much thought to to-morrow night!"