the right people, and when dinner was announced down they went.
He managed to get through his dinner pretty comfortably. He had Lady Carboy on his right, and Mrs. Bortle on his left, and as he contrived to confine the conversation to general topics, he did not “put his foot into it” more than twenty or five-and-twenty times during the course of the meal. He was much puzzled, however, by Lady Carboy's and Mrs. Bortle's continual reference to “this day of all others,” and he determined to find out what day of all others it really was. He could scarcely ask them without seeming absurd, so he called the butler to him and whispered—“Here, what's your name? In the name of mischief, tell me, what day is this?” to which the butler, thus solemnly adjured, replied “Tuesday, Sir Frederick,” which afforded him no clue whatever to the mystery.
After dinner, Sir John Carboy rose and said—
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is not usual to drink healths at modern dinner parties, but there are occasions when the strict forms of etiquette may be relaxed, and I think you will agree with me that this day of all others is one of them. I need not detain you by dilating on the auspicious character of the event we are here to celebrate—the circumstances are known to you all. I will content myself with proposing that we drink the health of my dear old friend, Sir Frederick Foggerty, and my still older, and (may I add?) my still dearer friend, his admirable wife.”
This short and (to Freddy) unsatisfactory speech was received with much applause, and Freddy observed,
