“Even afternoon teas?” laughed Kate, archly.
I faltered in voice while promising, “Even afternoon teas!”
“Then I’ll send you a card for mine,” she ended, and left me, crushed and hopeless.
⁂
No. That didn’t end the feud. It only led to a truce. For a time things went very well, but then the quarrel broke out with renewed force. You see, Kate claimed I spoiled the boy, and I claimed she did the spoiling. So we submitted it to arbitration. My mother said Kate was very judicious, and her father declared I was a model parent. Then we called in his godmother, and she decided we all four spoiled him. It’s been open war ever since, with an occasional brief cessation of hostilities whenever Kate kisses me. After the boy’s grown up, I suppose, peace will come again.
His godmother? Oh! Mrs. Baxter. You see, we couldn’t do less, for she had talked it all over town that the match was of her making. Her making! In ten cases out of nine she would have had a disrupted dinner. It’s lucky for her that Kate was a Cortelyou woman!
“THE BEST LAID PLANS”
AS ENACTED
IN
Two Social Cups of Tea,