"Not asked?" said the Colonel in amazement. "It's ridiculous, Babs, send him an invitation at once."
"This is my dance, father, and I don't want to ask Mr. Brewster."
The Colonel sank back in his chair and struggled to overcome his anger. He knew that Barbara had inherited his willfulness, and had long since discovered that it was best to treat her with tact.
"I thought you and he were—" but the Colonel's supply of tact was exhausted.
"We were"—in a moment of absent mindedness. "But it's all over," said Barbara.
"Why, child, there wouldn't have been a cotillon if it hadn't been for—" but the Colonel remembered his promise to Monty and checked himself just in time. "I—I mean there will not be any party, if Montgomery Brewster is not asked. That is all I care to say on the subject," and he stamped out of the room.
Barbara wept copiously after her father had gone, but she realized that his will was law and that Monty must be invited. "I will send an invitation," she said to herself, "but if Mr. Brewster comes after he has read it, I shall be surprised."
