Mr. Spence and Miss Hathaway to come and have tea with the
Belleport family on the following afternoon, when both Roger and Mr.
Galbraith would be at home. With beating heart Robert Morton took the
letter into the house and showed it to Delight.

"How nice of them!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I do wish we could go! Willie
would love it. He liked Mr. Galbraith and his son so much! And Aunt
Tiny would be in the seventh heaven if only she were able to accept.
She so seldom has an invitation out, poor dear!"

"And you?"

"Oh, I couldn't go anyway."

"Why not?"

"Well, in the first place, I have nothing to wear to a place like that."

"Delight!"

"And besides," she hurried on, "they are only asking me because I
happen to be here in the house."

"Indeed they're not!"

"But I know they are," persisted the girl. "Everybody doesn't want to
see me just because you--"

"Because I what?" demanded Bob, with an ominous stride in her direction.

"Because you--and Mr. Snelling like me," concluded she tranquilly.

"Confound Snelling!"

"Indeed, no. He is a charming gentleman, and I won't have him
confounded."

"Hang him then."

"Nor hanged either," she protested.

"Of course if you prefer Mr. Snelling--" began Robert Morton stiffly.

She broke into a teasing laugh.

"I may not prefer him, but nevertheless I will own he is the most
wonderful specimen of masculinity that my eyes have ever beheld.
Remember Wilton is a small place, pitifully limited in its outlook, and
that I have not traveled the wide world to view the wonders it
contains. Hence Mr. Snelling is to me like the Eiffel Tower, the
Matterhorn, the tomb of Napoleon, or Fifth Avenue at Easter--something
illustrious and novel."

"He is nothing so fine as any of those," snapped Bob.

"Oh, I don't know," was the provoking answer.

Robert Morton bit his lip and moved toward the door, but he had not got
further than the sill before she whispered:

"Bob!"

Resolutely he held his peace.

"Please be nice, Bob," she cooed.

Ah, he was back again, but she had retreated behind the tall rocker.

"I suppose," she observed, hurtling the words over Jezebel's sleeping
form, "that your aunt will be heartbroken to miss this party. Why
don't you run upstairs and let her read the note? Then we can send our
regrets when Mr. Snelling goes back to Belleport this noon."

Obediently the young man sped to do her bidding, and soon Delight heard
his voice calling fro