“Yes, Mr. Slade,” answered Ray coldly, “I got your telegram; otherwise we might have missed the convention altogether. Is it your custom to delay notifying the delegates from the various colleges until they telegraph and ask you when the meetings are to take place?”
“‘Custom,’ Mr. Wendell?” exclaimed Slade in amazement. “What do you mean? I have been secretary of the League for two years, and you know my custom well enough.”
“I know what your custom should be in notifying us,” said Ray.
“And always has been,” added Slade with an accent of annoyance. “Mr. Wendell, suppose we stop this hinting. What is the meaning of your tone?”
“Why did you neglect to notify me of the date of this meeting?” asked Ray.
“I did notify you,” was the instant response.
“Yes, by telegram to-day, after I had asked for the information, but why did you fail to send me the customary formal notification that should precede the meeting by a week at least?”
Slade looked Ray steadily in the face for several seconds, as if trying to determine whether he was in earnest.
“Mr. Wendell,” said he firmly, “there is evidently some misunderstanding. I sent you the regular notification ten days ago.”