“With kindest regards to your dear mamma, and with united kind regards from the colonel to all chez vous, I am, my dearest Miss Casey, yours affectionately,
Jemima Bowdler.”
“This is agonizing!” cried Matilda, ready to burst into tears.
“Our lovely dinner!” moaned Mrs. Casey.
“There is some fatality about us.”
“Wan pound five a head without wine, and seventeen and six extra for a pineapple.”
“Was ever anything so provoking? It’s enough to drive one mad!”
“I suppose Mick must ask in the apprentice to eat the dinner, as we’ve to pay for it. Such food for to cock up an apprentice with!” sighed Mrs. Casey.
Miss Casey perused the letter again, and finding P. T. O. in the corner, turned the page and read a postscript as follows:
“P. S.—The colonel has just come in, and what do you think he has the audacity to suggest?—that we ask your permission to bring the Beamishes to your dinner to-day. The colonel has taken such a fancy to you, dearest young friend, that he treats you as if he had been on intimate terms for years. He insists upon my writing this, but please to blame him for this piece of audacity.