"Only twenty-three! Surely Annie's niver let a teaspoon go down the sink."
"Have a sangwich, Mamma," said her husband. "The spoon'll turn up."
Mrs. Thomson took a sandwich and sat down on a chair. "Well," she said slowly, "we've had them, and we'll not need to have them for a long time again."
"It's been a great success," said Mr. Thomson, taking a mouthful of lemonade. "Eh, Jessie?"
"It was very nice," said Jessie, "and as you say, Mamma, we'll not need to have another for a long time. Mr. Taylor's the limit," she added.
"He enjoyed himself," said her father.
"He's an awful man to eat," said Mrs. Thomson. "It's not the thing to make remarks about guests' appetites, I know, but he fair surpassed himself to-night. However, Mrs. Taylor, poor body, 's quite delighted with him."
"He sang well," said Mr. Thomson. "I never heard 'Miss Hooligan' better. Quite a lot of talent we had to-night, and Miss Seton's a treat. Nobody can sing like her, to my mind."
"That's true," said his wife. "Mr. Stevenson seems a nice young man, Jessie. What does he do?"
"He's an artist," said Jessie. "I met him at the Shakespeare Readings. Muriel Simpson thinks he's awfully good-looking."