Ferdie nods. And, say, it was like catchin' a chicken sandwich dropped out of a clear sky. The Pulsifers! Didn't I know who was there? I did! I'd had a bulletin from a very special and particular party, sayin' how she'd be there for a week, while Aunty was in the Berkshires. And up to this minute my chances of gettin' inside Cedarholm gates had been null and void, or even worse. But now—say, I wanted to be real kind to Ferdie!
"One or two old friends of Marjorie's are to be there," he goes on dreamy.
"They are?" says I. "Then that's diff'rent. You got to go, of course."
"But—but," says he, "only a moment ago you——"
"Ah, mooshwaw!" says I. "You don't want Marjorie grumpin' around for the next week, do you, wishin' she'd gone, and layin' it all to you?"
Ferdie blinks a couple of times as the picture forms on the screen. "That's so," says he. "She would."
"Then gimme that blank," says I. "Now here, how's this, 'Have at last arranged things so we can come. Charmed to accept'? Eh?"
"But—but there's Baby's milk," objects Ferdie. "Marjorie always watches the nurse sterilize it, you know."
"Do up a gallon before you leave," says I.
"It's such a puzzling place to get to, though," says Ferdie. "I'm sure we'd never get on the right train."