"Then I'll wear two. But, Bill, I'm not so big, you know."

Warble up, and parading the room with a martial air.

"You're a perfect Bellona!" Petticoat said, smiling at her.

"A Bologna! Oh, you horrid thing! But that reminds me I haven't had
sausage lately. I must speak to cook. Now, about my party."

"Have a good one while you're about it. I might import a Spanish Ballet--"

"You might do nothing of the sort! This is to be my party, and I shall run
it to suit myself."

"All right, Tutti Frutti; you have no subtlety or poetry in your soul--
indeed, I doubt if you have a soul--but you're a dear and a sweet--"

"Bill, I've an idea! Build bureaus right down to the floor and then collar
buttons can't roll under them!" "Fine idea! Better patent it. Must go.
Goodby."

"Wait a minute. Mrs. Holm Boddy is coming to see me to-day. What's she
like?"

"Oh, she's a hen-minded Hetty with cabriole legs. Don't bother with her
much. They're lower case people--tin pergola and pebble garden sort. And
early Victorian bathrooms. You won't like her--freeze her out."

"All righty. Say--Billy dear--has you any choclums?"