"That's all," I assured her. "Expecting something?"
"Have you had any trouble with Breck?" she flashed out at me next.
"What are you driving at, Edith?" I inquired. "What's the matter?"
"Mrs. Sewall is giving a perfectly enormous ball at Grassmere on the twenty-fourth, and we're left out. That's the matter!" She tossed the mail on the table.
"Oh," I said, "our invitations will come in the morning probably. There are often delays."
"No, sir, I know better. The bridge club girls said their invitations came yesterday afternoon. I can't understand it. We certainly were on Mrs. Sewall's list when she gave that buffet-luncheon three years ago. And now we're not! That's the bald truth of it. It was terribly embarrassing this afternoon—all of them telling about what they were going to wear—it's going to be a masquerade—and I sitting there like a dummy! Héléne McClellan broke the news to me. She blurted right out, 'Oh, do tell us, Edith,' she said to me, 'is Mrs. Sewall's ball to announce your sister's engagement to her son? We're crazy to know!' Of course I didn't let on at first that we weren't even invited, but it had to leak out later. Oh, it is simply humiliating!"
"Is she at Grassmere now—Mrs. Sewall, I mean?" I asked quietly.
"Yes, she is. There's a big house-party going on
