“Well, it is a funny story,” Leila persisted. “I told it to Doctor Harden and he almost died laffin’. Doc certainly knows a joke. You’re not angry—not really, terribly angry at your ’ittle baby girl, is ’ou, Dada?”
“I most certainly am!” he retorted grimly. A moment later he added: “Well, let’s go to Deer Trail for supper. Connie, you and Shep are free for the evening, I hope?”
“We’ll be glad to go, of course,” Constance replied amiably.
IV
The Sunday evening suppers at Deer Trail were usually discontinued after Christmas, and Leila was taken aback by the announcement. Her father had not, she noted, shown his usual courtesy in asking her if she cared to go. She correctly surmised that the proposed flight into the country was intended as a disciplinary measure for her benefit. She had promised to meet Thomas at the Burtons’ at eight o’clock, and he could hardly have hit upon anything better calculated to awaken resentment in her young breast. She began to consider the hazards of attempting to communicate with Thomas to explain her inability to keep the appointment. As there were to be no guests, the evening at Deer Trail promised to be an insufferably dull experience and she must dodge it if possible.
“Oh, don’t let’s do that!” she said. “It’s too cold, Dada. And the house is always drafty in the winter!”
“Drafty!” Her father stared at her blandly. The country house was steam-heated and this was the first time he had ever heard that it was drafty. The suggestion of drafts was altogether unfortunate. “Had you any engagement for this evening?” he asked.
“Oh, I promised Mrs. Torrence I’d go there for supper—she’s having some people in to do some music. It’s just an informal company, but I hate dropping out.”
Constance perceptibly shuddered.
“When did she give this invitation?” asked Mills, with the utmost urbanity.