Mrs. B. Benedict, I must beg that you never refer to that incident again. Adelaide Turner was a high-spirited girl, who would have been divorced from the best man living in. a year's time, so I do not feel in the least to blame.
Mr. B. Ah, very well, my dear. What, may I ask, is your plan of action in this especial case?
Mrs. B. [tapping her forehead lightly with fingers]. Let ma think a moment.
[Mr. B. strides about room whistling softly with hands in pockets.]
Mrs. B. [suddenly springing up and placing her hand on his, arm]. I have it: just listen.
[Mr. B. stops whistling and listens attentively.]
Mrs. B. Eating is conducive to sentiment, is it not?
Mr. B. [somewhat surprised]. Why—er—yes, but it depends largely upon what you have to eat.
Mrs. B. Certainly, I agree with you, therefore, I intend giving a little informal dinner to-night. Just five or six covers, you know, and of course both you and I know that to-night is Hallowe'en. [She smiles at him and he takes her hand from his shoulder and kisses it.] We must, however, pretend not to know that it is, until dinner is well under way, because if Agnes smells a mouse—Mercy! what was that? [Gives a shrill little squeal.]
Mr. B. Only the portière rings moving.
Mrs. B. What made them move?
Mr. B. The wind, I suppose.
Mrs. B. [calming down']. Yes, I suppose so. Well, to continue the subject: While we are all at table you must lead off something like this: "Cecily, did you receive the Morton's invitations?" I will answer in the affirmative. Then you must say: "By the way, what's the date of their dance?" I'll say, "The fourth of November." Then you must say, as if very much surprised, "Why, 'pon my word, that's only about four days off. This is the thirty-first, and, good gracious, it's All-Hallowe'en." Then I shall clap my hand? in a jubilant manner, and say, "Yes! yes! We must test
