"
Janice hesitated.
"She will surely ask where you are to dine," said she, half-smiling.
Jack looked at the crowd.
"Fellows," he said, "we must save up for to-morrow's blow-out; suppose you
let Mitchell and me dine Aunt Mary somewhere very tranquilly to-night and
we'll get her home by eleven."
"Yes, do," said Janice, with sudden earnest entreaty. "Honestly, there is
a limit."
"Of course, there is a limit," said Mitchell. "Even cities have their
limits. This one tried to be an exception, but San Francisco yelled 'Keep
off' and she drew in her claws again. Aunt Mary, possessing many points in
common with New York, also possesses that. She has limits. Her limits took
in more than we bargained for,--for they have taken us into the bargain.
Still they are there, and we bow to necessity. A cheerful drive, a quiet
tea, early to bed. And _pax vobiscum_."
"No wonder," said Burnett, "it's easy for you to agree when you're to be
one of the dinner party." "I don't mind being left out," said Clover
contentedly. "I shall sit on the sofa and whisper to 'the one behind.'
Whispering is an art that I have almost forgotten, but inspired by that
pink--"
"Then I'll tell Miss Watkins to dress for the going out," said Janice,
pointedly addressing herself to Jack.
"Yes, please do."
The maid left the room and went upstairs. Aunt Mary was tossing about on
her pillow.
"Well, what's it to be?" she asked instantly.
"The storm has made it too wet to picnic," replied Janice.
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