Kitty nodded.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I announced, "you are asked to drink to the speedy recovery of Miss Phillis Inglethwaite. This toast is proposed by her mother, and seconded by her father."
The toast was drunk with all sincerity, but soberly, as befitted.
"Now, Dilly," I said, when we were ready again.
Dilly whispered something to her husband, which was received by that gentleman with a modest and deprecatory cough, coupled with an urgent request that his wife would chuck it.
"He won't announce my toast for me," explained Dilly, turning to us—"he's too shy, poor dear!—so I'll do it myself. Ladies and gentlemen, the toast is—Dicky!"
Dicky's health was drunk with cheers and laughter, and Dilly completed its subject's confusion by kissing him.
"Now, Dolly!" said every one.
"Not yet!" said Dolly. "Gerald and Moke are the next pair. Gerald must act lady, and think of a toast."
Master Gerald, hastily bolting a solid mass of mince-pie—one could almost follow the course of its descent—cheerfully complied.