“Not ten thousand—only five or six. I shall be wild if they can’t come.”
“You want them?”
“We have asked them—and everything is ready—and I do want us to have a party one day.”
“But to-day—damn it all, Lettie!”
“But I did want my party to-day. Don’t you think they’ll come?”
“They won’t if they’ve any sense!”
“You might help me——” she pouted.
“Well I’ll be—! and you’ve set your mind on having a houseful of people to-day?”
“You know how we look forward to it—my party. At any rate—I know Tom Smith will come—and I’m almost sure Emily Saxton will.”
He bit his moustache angrily, and said at last:
“Then I suppose I’d better send John round for the lot.”
“It wouldn’t be much trouble, would it?”
“No trouble at all.”
“Do you know,” she said, twisting the ring on her finger. “It makes me feel as if I tied something round my finger to remember by. It somehow remains in my consciousness all the time.”
“At any rate,” said he, “I have got you.”
After dinner, when we were alone, Lettie sat at the table, nervously fingering her ring.
“It is pretty, mother, isn’t it?” she said a trifle pathetically.
“Yes, very pretty. I have always liked Leslie,” replied my mother.
“But it feels so heavy—it fidgets me. I should like to take it off.”
