d just made the pleasant remark that he wouldn't have
an Irish servant in his house, when Mary fired the salute."

"Then that settles it," said Bessie. "We'll cut the Twinings out,
and ask the others. I don't care much for Mrs. Twining, anyhow;
she's nothing but clothes and fidgets."

"And Twining doesn't do much but ask you what you think of certain
things, and then tell you you are all wrong when he finds out," said
Thaddeus. "Yes, it's just as well to cut them off this time. We'll
make it for eight, and have it a week from Thursday night."

"That's Mary's night off," said Bessie.

"Then how about having it Friday?"

"That's Maggie's night off, and there won't be anybody to mind the
baby."

"Humph!" said Thaddeus. "I wish there were a baby safe-deposit
company somewhere. Can't your mother come over and look after him?"

"No," said Bessie, "she can't. The child always develops something
every time mother comes. Not, of course, that I believe she gives
it to him, but she looks for things, don't you know."

"Yes," said Thaddeus, "I know. Then make it Wednesday. That's my
busy day down-town, and I shan't be able to get home much before
half-past six, but if dinner is at seven, there will be time enough
for me to dress."

"Very well," said Bessie. "I will write the invitations to-morrow,
and, meanwhile, you and I can get up the menu."

"Oysters to begin with, of course," said Thaddeus.

"I suppose so," said Bessie, "though, you remember, the last time we
had oysters you had to open them, because the man from the market
didn't get here until half-past seven."

"And Ellen had never opened any except with a tack-hammer," said
Thaddeus. "Yes, I remember. But lightning never strikes twice in
the same place. Put down the oysters. Then we'll have some kind of
a puree--celery puree, eh?"

"That will be very good if Ellen can be induced to keep it thick."

"Perhaps we'd better tell her we want a celery consomme," suggested
Thaddeus. "Then it will be sure to be as thick as a dictionary."

"I guess it will be all right," said Bessie. "What kind of fish?"

"Bradley likes salmon; Robinson likes sole; Phillips likes
whitebait, and so do I."

"We'll have whitebait," said Bessie, simply. "Then a saddle of
mutton?"

"Yes, and an entree of some kind, and next individual ruddy ducks."

"No Roman punch?"

"We can get along without that, I think," said Thaddeus. "We want
to keep this dinner down to