"You are a sensible man at last," which was a great deal for Mrs.
Allen to say.

"Why, mamma," exclaimed her husband, elevating his eyebrows in comic
surprise, "that I should live to hear you say that!"

"Now don't be silly," she replied, joining slightly in the laugh at
her expense, "or we shall think that you have taken too much
champagne, and that this Europe business is all a hoax."

"Wait till you have been outside of Sandy Hook an hour, and you will
find everything real enough then. I think I see the elegant ladies of
my household about that time."

"For shame, papa! what an uncomfortable suggestion over a dinner
table!" said the fastidious Laura. "Picture the ladies of your
household in the salons of Paris. I promise we will do you credit
there."

"I hope so, for I fear I shall have need of _credit_ when you all
reach that Mecca of women."

"It's no more the Mecca of women than Wall Street is the Jerusalem of
men. What you are all going to do in Heaven without Wall Street, I
don't see."

Mr. Allen gave his significant shrug and said, "I don't meet notes
till they are due," which was his way of saying: "Sufficient unto the
day is the evil thereof."