Bertram answered.

``Bertram, tell Cyril I want to speak to him,
please.''

``All right, dear, but go easy. Better strike
up your tuning fork to find his pitch to-day.
You'll discover it's a high one, all right.''

A moment later Cyril's tersely nervous ``Good
morning, Billy,'' came across the line.

Billy drew in her breath and cast a hurriedly
apprehensive glance over her shoulder to make
sure Marie was not near.

``Cyril,'' she called in a low voice, ``if you care
a shred for Marie, for heaven's sake call her up
and tell her that you dote on pink roses, and pink
ribbons, and pink breakfasts--and pink wedding
cake!''

``But I don't.''

``Oh, yes, you do--to-day! You would--if
you could see Marie now.''

``What do you mean?''