“’Deed I did, and she snubbed me for my pains. I don’t like Miss Trevor, and I don’t mean to give her the chance of refusing any more invitations.”
Bridgie looked aghast, as well she might, and made no attempt to hide her discomfiture.
“But—but I told her you would! I made quite sure of it, and told her she would have such a good time. The poor girl is counting upon it.”
“And she is Bridgie’s friend. Bridgie wants to bring her. That settles the question surely!” said Geoffrey quietly. He looked across the table with uplifted brows, and, wonder of wonders, Esmeralda blushed, and murmured vaguely about being “much pleased.”
“What a mercy it was that Geoffrey was at home! But oh, if you love me, Pixie, never, never let Sylvia guess that we had to plead for her invitations!” pleaded Bridgie earnestly, as the two sisters made their way home an hour later on.
Chapter Twenty One.
An “At Home.”
Fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be, there is no hall mark of sincerity to distinguish one invitation from another, and the printed cards which were in due time received by Sylvia Trevor differed in no respect from those sent to the most favoured of Esmeralda’s guests. Fortunately also the remarks with which invitations are received are not overheard by the prospective hostess, else might she often feel her trouble wasted, and repent when it was too late.