“You ought to have known better than that, and seen I was a little more finished than I could have been by staying where I was born. There was not much to do at home, and I was eating my head off, so I went away for three months.”
“You’ll soon have plenty to do now, dear, won’t you?”
“How do you mean?”
“Why, of course—little things to make.”
“Oh.”
“When will it be? Can’t you tell me exactly, instead of in such general terms as you have used?”
“Tell you?”
“Yes—the date.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I made a mistake.”
“What?”