"So am I," gasped Mrs. Wellington, rushing forward, only to be faced by the slam of the door and the click of the key. She whirled back to demand of Marjorie: "Did you ever hear of such impudence?"
"I never did."
"I'll never be ready for Reno," Mrs. Wellington wailed, "and I haven't had my breakfast."
"You'd better order it in advance," said Marjorie. "It takes that chef an hour to boil an egg three minutes."
"I will, if I can ever get my face washed," sighed Mrs. Wellington.
And now Mrs. Anne Lathrop, after much hesitation, called timidly: "Porter—porter—please!"
"Yes—miss—missus!" he amended.
"Will you call my—" she gulped—"my husband?"
"Yes, ma'am," the porter chuckled, and putting his grinning head in at the men's door, he bowed to Ira and said: "Excuse me, but you are sent for by the lady in number One."
Ashton slapped him on the back and roared: "Oh, you married man!"