“You ought to have told him it wasn’t necessary, Bess,” said Thaddeus.
“I felt that way myself at first,” Bessie explained; “but then I thought I wouldn’t let him know I remembered what he had said.”
“I fancy that was better,” said Thaddeus. “But about that dinner. What do you say to our inviting the Bradleys, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, the Robinsons, and the Twinings?”
“How many does that make? Eight besides ourselves?” asked Bessie, counting upon her fingers.
“Yes—ten altogether,” said Thaddeus.
“It can’t be done, dear,” said Bessie. “We have only eight fruit plates.”
“Can’t you and I go without fruit?” Thaddeus asked.
“Not very well,” laughed Bessie. “It would never do.”
“They might think the fruit was poisoned if we did, eh?” suggested Thaddeus.
“Besides, Mary never could serve dinner for ten; eight is her number. Last time we had ten people, don’t you remember, she dropped a tray full of dishes, and poured the claret into the champagne glasses?”