"I hope you don't mind if I have a puff or two," says Claire. "It goes here, you know."
"Anything to make the evenin' a success," says I, signalin' a garçon. "My khaki lets me out of followin' you."
So, when the head waiter finally tows in Mrs. Parker Smith, costumed in the same gray dress and lookin' meeker and gentler than ever, she is greeted with a sporty tableau. But she don't faint or anything. She just springs that twisty smile of hers and comes right on.
"The missing one!" says I, wavin' at Claire.
"Ah!" says Mrs. Parker Smith, beamin' on her. "So good of you to come!"
"Wasn't it?" says Claire, removin' the cork tip languid.
Well, as a get-together I must admit that the outlook was kind of frosty. Claire showed plenty of enthusiasm for the hors d'œuvres and the low-tide soup and so on, but mighty little for this volunteer auntie, who starts to describe the subtle joys of the butter business.
"Perhaps you have never seen a herd of registered Guernseys," says Mrs. Parker Smith, "when they are munching contentedly at milking time, with their big, dreamy eyes——"
"Excuse me!" says Claire. "I don't have to. I spent a whole month's vacation on a Vermont farm."
Mrs. Parker Smith only smiles indulgent.