I know of nothing more exasperating to a hostess than to have her
guests come to her home too early. It is bad enough to wait a meal for
a belated guest, but to have some critical woman casually stroll in
before one is dressed, or has put the final touches--so dear to every
housewifely heart--on all the preparations, is simply maddening.

I am no exception to the rule. As I heard the voices of Lillian Gale
and her husband and I realized that they had arrived at 3:30 in the
afternoon, when they had been invited for an evening chafing dish
supper, I was both disheartened and angry.

But, of course, there was but one thing to do, much as I hated to do
it. I must go into the living room and cordially welcome these people.
As I slipped off my kitchen apron I thought of the hypocrisy which
marks most social intercourse. What I really wanted to say to my
guests was this:

"Please go home and come again at the proper time. I am not ready to
receive you now."

I had a sudden whimsical vision of the faces of Dicky and the
Underwoods if I should thus speak my real thoughts. The thought
in some curious fashion made it easier for me to cross the room to
Lillian Gale's side, extend my hand and say cordially:

"How good of you to come this afternoon!"

"I know it is unpardonable," Lillian's high pitched voice answered.
"You invited us for the evening, not for the afternoon, but I told
Harry that I was going to crucify the conventions and come over early,