e my world is overcrowded," Sally said, one January afternoon,
two years later.

"Arlt, why don't you take the hint?" Bobby asked languidly. "I am too
comfortable to stir, and she evidently wishes to get rid of somebody."

"Possibly she means me; but I was the last to come, so I shall outstay
you both," Miss Gannion said, laughing. "At least, Sally, your
hospitality does you credit."

With leisurely fingers, Sally was opening her teaball; but Bobby
interposed.

"I wouldn't make any tea for us, Sally. I know you are afraid it may not
hold out for your crowded universe, and we three have been here often
enough to have dispelled any illusions about the quality of your cups.
Two are cracked, and one has a nick exactly in the spot where we drink.
I suspect Arlt of having cut his wisdom teeth on it."

"Only women cut their wisdom teeth on a teacup," Miss Gannion observed.
"But really, Sally, I would save my tea until the crowd shows itself."

Sally shook her head.

"You interrupted me in the midst of my thesis."

Bobby interrupted again.

"It is our only chance to get in a word. We have to insert its thin edge
at a comma, or else keep still. You never have any conversational
semicolons, to say nothing of periods."

"As I was saying," Sally repeated pertinaciously; "my world is
overcrowded. I have so many acquaintances that I never get time to enjoy
my friends."

"What about now?" Bobby queried. "Here are we, and here is time. Which
is lacking: enjoyment, or friendship?"

"Oh, this is an interlude, and doesn't count. We shall just get into the
midst of a little rational conversation, though, and two or three stupid
people will come in and reduce us to talking about the weather."

"You might send out cards," Arlt suggested, with the hesitating accent
which was so characteristic of him. "Why not announce that on Tuesdays
you are at home to clever people and friends only?"

"Yes; but it is no subject for joking," Sally persisted. "Last Tuesday
in all that storm, for the first time this winter, Mr. Thayer came to
see me. I know how busy he is, and I was just preparing to make the most
of his call, when Mrs. Stanley came swishing and creaking into the room,
and she babbled about her servants and her lumbago until Mr. Thayer took
his departure. I wanted to administer poison."

"Try an anodyne," Bobby advised her. "They say that stout people yield
easily to their influence. By the way, why is it polite to call a wom