"No, my dear child; we cannot tell when he will be home."
"It don't seem a bit pleasant to eat dinner without Rufie," complained Rose.
"It isn't often he stays, Rose. He'll tell us all about it when he comes."
They went down and took their seats at the dinner-table.
"Where is your brother, Rose?" asked Mrs. Clifton.
"He hasn't got home," said Rose, rather disconsolately.
"I am sorry for that. He is a very agreeable young man. If I wasn't married," simpered Mrs. Clifton, "I should set my cap for him. But I mustn't say that, or Mr. Clifton will be jealous."
"Oh, don't mind me!" said Mr. Clifton, carelessly. "It won't spoil my appetite."
"I don't think there's anything that would spoil your appetite," said his wife, rather sharply, for she would have been flattered by her husband's jealousy.
"Just so," said Mr. Clifton, coolly. "May I trouble you for some chicken, Mrs. Clayton?"