Mrs. Kame glanced curiously at Honora, and laughed again.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Trixy," she said.
"Why?" he asked innocently. "There's nothing wrong in going to the
Adirondacks—is there, Cecil?"
"No," said Mr. Grainger, blinking rapidly.
"The Adirondacks," declared Mrs. Kame, "have now become classic."
"By the way," observed Mr. Grainger, "I believe Bessie's in town to-day at a charity pow-wow, reading a paper. I've half a mind to go over and listen to it. The white dove of peace—and all that kind of thing."
"You'd go to sleep and spoil it all," said Brent.
"But you can't, Cecil!" cried Mrs. Kame. "Don't you remember we're going to Westchester to the Faunces' to spend the night and play bridge? And we promised to arrive early."
"That's so, by George," said Mr. Grainger, and he drank the rest of his whiskey-and-soda.
"I'll tell you what I'll do, if Mrs. Spence is willing," suggested Brent. "If you start right after lunch, I'll take you out. We'll have plenty of time," he added to Honora, "to get back to Quicksands for dinner."