"The cake!"
"You frightened me. I thought—"
"It's four stories high and pasted together with caramel."
"You should never leave a 'phone in that way without—"
"Bernie detests caramel; but I'm expecting a 'certain party' to call on me to-night. Norvin, do you think red ink would hurt a cake?"
"Myra Nell," he said, severely, "didn't you wash your hands before mixing that dough?"
"Of course."
"I have my doubts. Will you really be at liberty this evening?"
"That depends entirely upon you. If I am, I shall exact another ransom—flowers, perhaps."
"I'll send them anyhow, Marechal Neils."