in his voice.

"Yes," laughed Watts, "and he is a host. He'll not let any one else get
a word in edgewise. You are just the kind of talker he'll like. Mark my
word, he'll be telling every one, before you've been two hours in the
house, that you are a remarkably brilliant conversationalist."

"What will he say of you?" said Peter, in a sentence which he broke up
into reasonable lengths by a couple of pulls at his pipe in the middle
of it.

"Mr. Pierce, chum," replied Watts, with a look in his eyes which Peter
had learned to associate with mischief on Watts's part, "has too great
an affection for yours truly to object to anything I do. Do you suppose,
if I hadn't been sure of my footing at the Shrubberies, that I should
have dared to ask an invitation for"--then Watts hesitated for a moment,
seeing a half-surprised, half-anxious look come into Peter's face, "for
myself?" he continued.

"Tell truth and shame the devil," said Peter.

Watts laughed. "Confound you! That's what comes of letting even such a
stupid old beggar as you learn to read one's thoughts. It's mighty
ungrateful of you to use them against me. Yes. I did ask to have you
included in the party. But you needn't put your back up, Mr. Unbendable,
and think you were forced on them. Mr. Pierce gave me _carte blanche_,
and if it hadn't been you, it would have been some other donkey."

"But Mrs. Pierce?" queried Peter.