“Well, darling, let her come. She didn’t bother me a bit. It would be rough on Keble, I suppose.”
“Rough and warm,” said Miriam a little testily. “She had the effect on me of heavy flannels in midsummer.”
Louise gleefully pounced on her opportunity. “Fi donc! Miriam Cread conjuring up such incorrect things as flannels,—and it isn’t anywhere near Doomsday!”
“It’s near dressing time. And we must pack a little before dinner. After the theatre we’ll be too tired.”
“How shall we explain our sudden departure to Mrs. Pardy? Before she sends out invitations to all her friends to ‘meet’ us!”
“We can have the measles. Or you’re moving to Alaska.”
“And if ever she and Mr. P. are in the Arctic Circle. . . . Measles wouldn’t do the trick. She would come right in and nurse us. And give us her doctor and her florist. Frankly, dear, I rather like Mrs. Pardy; she’s so hearty. I thought that was going to rhyme but it didn’t.”
“Come along. We’re going to walk home, for exercise.”
“In these heels? . . . Is fifty cents enough to leave the waiter?”
“Enough, good gracious! Leave the brute a quarter.”