GERALD LOOKED PUZZLED.
Gerald read the letter through twice, and then looked puzzled.
"Which day were they invited for, Margaret?" he asked.
"To-morrow, of course, the 13th."
"Well, they're coming this evening by the 7.2."
I looked over his shoulder; it was the 12th undoubtedly. "And mother and father aren't coming till the 9.30," I sighed; "I wish they were going to be here in time for dinner to entertain Mr. Marriott; he's sure to be eccentric—clever people always are."
"Yes," agreed Gerald, "he'll talk miles above our heads; but never mind, there'll be old Jack."
Cook and I next discussed the menu. I rather thought curry should figure in it, as Mr. Marriott came from India; but cook overruled me, saying it was "such nasty hot stuff for this weather, and English curry wouldn't be like Indian curry either."
When everything was in readiness for our guests Gerald and I went to the Prescotts', who were giving the tournament.