The doorbell rang one evening while the family still lingered at the supper table, and the servant brought a card to Fenie.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed the girl with a pout. "Here comes Harry Trewman, just as we were going to have a jolly game of parchesi with the baby. I do think that callers might remain at home on stormy nights, when a girl hasn't taken the pains to dress for company. That young man needs a lesson. He has sisters and they ought to teach him that ladies don't expect calls on stormy nights."
"It won't take you long to change your dress, dear," suggested Trif.
"No, but—"
"'Be not unmindful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares,'" quoted Phil, as he quartered a second orange for Trixy.
"Angels—umph!" exclaimed Fenie. "Harry Trewman doesn't resemble any angel of whom I ever saw a picture. He's no stranger either, goodness knows; he's been here at least once a week for a long time. You shouldn't ever quote Scripture, Phil, unless the application is entirely correct."
"Very well, then; 'Flee from the wrath to come.' Nothing makes Trif so provoked as delay in greeting a visitor."
"Poor little Trixy. Her game will have to be put off," murmured Fenie as she rose from the table and kissed her niece.
"Never mind me," said Trixy, from behind a kiss and a mouthful of orange. "The game will keep, but Mr. Trewman won't, if you don't be more careful."
"Won't keep?" exclaimed Fenie, with a frown at the child and a suspicious glance at the remainder of the family.