"No. Who do you suppose called?"
"Search me."
"C. Bailey, Junior!"
Doris looked blank, then: "Oh, that boy you had an affair with about a hundred years ago?"
"That same boy," said Athalie, smiling.
"He'll come again next century I suppose—like a comet," shrugged Doris, nestling closer to the radiator.
Athalie said nothing; her sister slowly stirred the crackers in the milk and from time to time took a spoonful.
"Next time," she said presently, "I shall go out to supper when an attractive man asks me. I know how to take care of myself—and the supper, too."
Athalie started to say something, and stopped. Perhaps she remembered C. Bailey, Jr., and that she had promised to dine and sup with him, "anywhere."