"I wish that Maude and I were young enough to be included in your invitation," he added wistfully.
"Well, if you promise not to spoil their fun, as a great favour, I'll give you a pass!" laughed Mrs. Hammond. "As a great favour."
The only thing that spoiled it was that Mrs. Marshall Gurney could not hear.
On this Thursday evening, the colonel and his wife had joined the party. Till now, it had been uproariously successful. The colonel sat pulling at his moustache and smiling quietly, and Lady Grainger's kind little round face beamed all over with pleasure, and Mr. Hammond was on his very best behaviour. He had told her only his most presentable stories, and treated her with the exaggerated gallantry that he sometimes thought fit to show to his wife's friends, and which Lady Grainger found to be "so quaint and old-fashioned and nice."
As for the boys, they needed no entertainment. They were eating dessert now, and Bobby Collins with an intent, serious face, bent over the orange skin that he was carving.
"What is it, Mr. Collins?" asked Muriel. She rather liked these boys, who treated her like a pleasant kind of aunt, and whom even Mrs. Hammond never regarded in the light of anything more intimate than a stepping-stone to the Graingers.
"Pig," replied Bobby comprehensively.
"I beg your pardon?" Young Smithson raised his head from Muriel's other side. "Kindly repeat that word."
"Pig," repeated Bobby obligingly, and continued to play with his knife.
"Do I understand," shouted Smithson in mock wrath, "that this epithet is intended as an insult to that charming lady?"