"And planning the donkey-dinner," Pearl will laugh.
"She was to give a fair for the hospital, you may remember," I say, "and she told me distinctly that she proposed to spend almost all her time in church-work."
"After the racing season," Pearl explains. "You know she has started a stable with Constance Wherry, and promises to give to the church all she makes in the ring."
"Their colors?" I inquire.
"Gold," Pearl answers; "all gold with narrow silver hoops—and the horses entered by 'Mr. Nagidar,' the new firm's name and 'Radigan' backward."
Then I will raise my glass and clink it gently over the table with Pearl's. "To Mr. Nagidar, success," I say.
A sip. Up go the glasses again, and I suggest: "To Mrs. Radigan—yesterday in Kansas City, to-day the smartest woman in town, to-morrow the patron saint of Society."
"But Sally was never so enthusiastic over you," Pearl says, resting her chin on her clinched fists as she leans on the table and smiles at me. "Remember Plumstone Smith and the Duke of Nocastle—even Captain Lord Algernon Fitznit."
"I prefer to forget them," I exclaim, "and will remember only that but for Mrs. Radigan I should never have met Pearl Veal!"
"Ve-al," Pearl corrects me laughingly. "Thank Heaven, I have at last got rid of that dreadful name. People simply would not help me out with the French pronunciation."