"Oh!" says I. "Then that's all right. Lemme see, where's that other sock?"
Say, I'd even forgot who all I'd asked to be on hand. That was what I was checkin' up when I rode past Auntie's floor on the elevator. I finds Vee some excited and more or less curious.
"Please," says she, "what is it all about?"
"It's a little game," says I, "entitled ditching Jamaica. There'll be some of our friends here directly to join in."
"Torchy," says Vee, starin' a bit scared, "you—you mean that— Anyway, I should change my frock, I suppose?"
"If you do," says I, "couldn't you make it that pink one, with the flimsy pink hat?"
"You goose!" says she. "If you like, though. Why, there is someone now!"
"That'll be Mr. and Mrs. Robert Ellins," says I. "You'll have to show speed."
Trust Vee. Just the' same, I don't know where there's another girl that could dress for the big event in less'n half an hour, while the guests was arrivin'. Next came Mr. Robert's sister, Marjorie, towin' her Ferdie along. Aunt Zenobia and my Uncle Kyrle and Aunt Martha breezed in soon after, with Old Hickory and Mrs. Ellins right behind 'em. Then Piddie, who'd put on his evenin' clothes over in Jersey at 5:30 and had been on the trolley most of the time since.
No, it wasn't a big mob, but it was a heap better than havin' some Connecticut parson call in wifie and the hired girl, as I'd first planned it.