“I don’t know, I didn’t glance under the table,” growled Fordyce.
“I hear Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper and Pauline are called ‘High-Lo,’” added Janet, winking mischievously at Marjorie.
“And who is ‘Jack in the game’?” demanded Fordyce.
“Her latest admirer,” retorted his daughter, flippantly.
“What roused your ire at the dinner?” demanded Mrs. Fordyce, bestowing a frown on Janet.
“Janet’s contemporaries made up the guests, Judge and Mrs. Walbridge and I being thrown in for good measure,” smiled Fordyce. “Left more or less to myself I watched the arrival of the young people, and I give you my word, Flora, the main endeavor of each guest appeared to be how to enter the drawing-room without greeting their host and hostess—and most of them succeeded in their purpose. I have seen better manners in a lumber camp.”
“What would the older generation do if they didn’t have us to criticize?” asked Janet, raising her hands in mock horror.
“Let me tell you, young lady, if I catch you forgetting the manners your mother taught you, I’ll pack you off to a convent,” warned Fordyce.
“You needn’t get so awfully excited,” objected his daughter, looking a trifle subdued. “I’m sure some of the married people are just as rude.”
“The more shame to them; they are old enough to know better,” declared Fordyce. “Life is too short to bother with ill-bred and stupid people. I came to Washington to avoid them.”