AND WHERE WAS THE DINNER?
"HELLO!" called Bob at the door one evening.
No answer.
"Hello, Bettina!" he called again. Again the dark house gave forth no reply.
Feeling, it must be admitted, a little out of harmony with a world that allowed weary and hungry husbands to come home to dark and empty houses when the clock said plainly that it was a quarter after six, Bob made his way to the kitchen. Perhaps Bettina had left his dinner there for him; perhaps she had been called away, or perhaps, even, she had rushed out on some errand after dinner preparations were begun. The kitchen, however, was so immaculate as to seem distinctly forbidding to a hungry man whose appetite was growing keener every minute. And he had been thinking all the way home that a hot dinner would taste so good!
At that moment a clamor of voices at the door aroused him.
"You poor old Bob!" cried Bettina, kissing him twice before Fred and Ruth without the least embarrassment. "Have you waited long?"
"It seemed hours," admitted Bob.
"Ruth and I have been to a tea for Alice. Fred came for her there, and I persuaded them to come home to dinner with me. I'll give you each something to do while I stir up a little cottage pudding. Then dinner will be ready in half an hour."
"Half an hour?" cried Bob. "But, Bettina, where is the dinner? I didn't see any!"