"But you said yourself, 'Where he is, or what he does'----" Then as
Mrs. Balcome rotated to stare at her resentfully, "Where is 'he'
staying, Mr. Balcome?"

"Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" bellowed Balcome. Leaning, he imparted something
to Sue in a whisper.

"Where?" persisted his wife.

"He's at the Astor," declared Sue, and was swept with Balcome into a
gale of mirth.

"Don't treat this as a joke, my dear Susan," warned Mrs. Balcome.

"Oh, joke, Sue! Joke!" cried Balcome, flapping at Sue with his hat.
"If there's one thing I like to see in a woman it's a sense of humor."

"Your husband appreciates your sense of humor," chanted Sue, returning
to her telephoning.

"If there's one thing I like to see in a man," returned Mrs. Balcome,
"it's a sense of decency."

"Your wife admires your sense of decency," continued the transmitter.

"She talks about decency"--Balcome spoke confidentially--"and she
brings a pup to rehearsal."

"She brings a darling doggie to rehearsal," translated Sue.

By now, Mrs. Balcome was serenity itself. "A pup at rehearsal," she
observed, "is more acceptable than one man I could name."

"Aw," began Balcome, reaching, as it were, for a suitable retort.

Sue put up imploring hands. Hattie had just entered, having changed
from her wedding-dress. "Now, wait! This line is busy," she declared.
And to Hattie, "Oh, my dear, why didn't you arrange for two ceremonies!"

"Do you mean bigamy?" inquired the girl, dryly, aware of the atmosphere
of trouble.

"I mean one ceremony for father, and one for mother," answered Sue.

Both belligerents advanced upon her. "Now, Susan," began Mrs. Balcome.
And "Look-a here!" exclaimed Balcome.

The sad voice of Dora interrupted. From the vestibule she shook a
mournful head in a warning. "Someone is calling," she whispered.
"It's Miss Crosby."

Like two combatants who have fought a round, the Balcomes parted,
retiring to opposite corners of the room. Dora, having satisfied
herself that quiet reigned, went out.

Hattie stifled a yawn. "What is Miss Crosby going to sing, Sue?" she
asked indifferently.

"'O Perfect Love.'"

Balcome wheeled with a resounding flop of the hat. "O Perfect What?"
he demanded.

"Love, Mr. Balcome,--L-O-V-E."

"Ha-a-a!" cried Balcome. "I haven't heard that word in years!"

Mrs. Balcome, stung again to action, swept forward to a renewed attack.
"He hasn't heard the word in years!" she scolded. And Balcome,
scoldin