“Of course not. You’re awfully clever, Tom. What should I have done without you?”
“Good old Jilly! What about plates?”
The consultation lasted far into the night.
Next morning the post brought a dozen or so of polite notes which sent the hearts of the hospitable pair into their mouths. The first they opened was from the Duke of Somewhere, who gravely “accepted with pleasure Mr and Miss Oliphant’s polite invitation.”
Several of the others were acceptances—one or two refusals.
“Five scratched already,” said Tom. “That’ll make it all right for the herrings.”
In the afternoon Dr Brandram called. He carried his invitation card in his hand.
“What game are you at now?” he demanded.
“Oh, I say, Doctor, keep it quiet! You’ll come, won’t you? There’ll be a tidy spread—enough to go all round; and the Duke and his lot are coming, and we expect the Grenadiers.”
“Doctor,” said Jill, “we shall depend on you so much. Do come early!”