"I think it would be nice," continued Sylvia in a far-away voice, entirely ignoring her male parent's suggestion, "if we went to a music-hall. I haven't been to one yet; and I am getting a bit tired of theatres." (Which was not altogether surprising, considering that Miss Sylvia and suite had visited seven in five days.) "Then you could smoke, daddy," she continued artfully. "You will come, won't you, Philip?"
"It may possibly have escaped your memory," Mr. Mablethorpe mentioned, "that we are engaged to dine to-night with Derek Rayner."
"Oh, bother!" said the ungrateful Dumps; "so we are. Has he invited you, Philip?"
"No," said Philip; and Mr. and Mrs. Mablethorpe exchanged glances.
"Well, I'll tell you what," announced Sylvia, who was not of an age to have any regard for the feelings of young men; "we will dine with Derek, and you must join us afterwards, and we will all go to the Arena together. I hear it is the best place. Derek won't mind, will he?"
"I am sure the arrangement will meet with his entire approval," remarked Mr. Mablethorpe solemnly.
"In that case," continued Sylvia with great cheerfulness, having gained her point, "we had better telephone to him that we shall want dinner earlier. What time do music-halls begin?"
"The performance," said her father, "is timed to commence at eight P.M., but attendance during the earlier turns is not compulsory."
He spoke bravely, but without hope, for he knew his daughter.
"I insist," announced the voracious Dumps, "on being there when the curtain goes up. I shall tell Derek that we will dine at a quarter to seven. Do you think this hotel is on the telephone?"