The plot then began to thicken. First came Jawleyford, in a terrible stew.
'Well, this is too bad!' exclaimed he, stamping and flourishing a scented note, with a crest and initials at the top. 'This is too bad,' repeated he; 'people accepting invitations, and then crying off at the last moment.'
'Who is it can't come, papa—the Foozles?' asked Emily.
'No—Foozles be hanged,' sneered Jawleyford; 'they always come—the Blossomnoses!' replied he, with an emphasis.
'The Blossomnoses!' exclaimed both girls, clasping their hands and looking up at the ceiling.
'What, all of them?' asked Emily.
'All of them,' rejoined Jawleyford.
'Why, that's four,' observed Emily.
'To be sure it is,' replied Jawleyford; 'five, if you count them by appetites; for old Blossom always eats and drinks as much as two people.'
'What excuse do they give?' asked Amelia.