"Why," says I, "I've been givin' him some wise dope on how to live among plutes and be happy."
"Silly!" says Vee, rumplin' my red hair. "Do you know what I've made up my mind to do some day this week? Have you take me for an evening call on the Garveys."
"Gosh!" says I. "You're some little Polar explorer, ain't you?"
It was no idle threat of Vee's. A few nights later we got under way right after dinner and drove over there. I expect we were about the first outsiders to push the bell button since they moved in. But we'd no sooner rung than Vee begins to hedge.
"Why, they must be giving a party!" says she. "Listen! There's an orchestra playing."
"Uh-huh!" says I. "Sounds like a jazz band."
A minute later, though, when the butler opens the door, there's no sound of music, and as we goes in we catches Garvey just strugglin' into his dinner coat. He seems glad to see us, mighty glad. Says so. Tows us right into the big drawin' room. But Mrs. Garvey ain't so enthusiastic. She warms up about as much as a cold storage turkey.
You can't feaze Vee, though, when she starts in to be folksy. "I'm just so sorry we've been so long getting over," says she. "And we came near not coming in this time. Didn't we hear music a moment ago. You're not having a dance or—or anything, are you?"
The Garveys look at each other sort of foolish for a second.
"Oh, no," says Mrs. Garvey. "Nothing of the sort. Perhaps some of the servants——"