“Well, after the time you’d spent thinking up Italian dishes for the lady to consume, I should say that the spaghetti was on us,” said Burgess, recalling with relief that the Countess’ failure to honor his home had released him for dinner with a British aviator who had proved to be a very amusing and interesting person. “I meant to ask you how the Gurleys got into the sketch. It was a contemptible thing to do, all right. No wonder you’re bitter about it. I’ll cheerfully punch Gurley’s head if that’ll do any good.” “What I’ve been thinking about, Web, is this,” said Mrs. Burgess, meditatively. “You know there’s an Illyrian delegation coming to town, a special envoy of some of the highest civil and military officials of poor war-swept Illyria. And I heard this afternoon that the Gurleys mean to carry them all to their house for luncheon when the train arrives Thursday at noon just before Governor Eastman receives them at the statehouse, where there’s to be a big public meeting. The Gurleys have had their old congressman from Taylorville extend the invitation in Washington and of course the Illyrians wouldn’t _know_, Web.” “They would not,” said Webster. “The fame of our domestic cuisine probably hasn’t reached Illyria and the delegation would be sure to form a low opinion of Western victualing if they feed at the Gurleys. The Gurleys probably think it a chance to open up a new market for their well-known Eureka brand of catsup in Illyria after the war.” “Don’t be absurd!” admonished Mrs. Burgess. “I’m not absurd; I’m indignant,” Webster averred. “Put your cards on the table and let’s have a look. What you want to do, Gertie, is to hand the Gurleys one of their own sour pickles. I sympathize fully with your ambition to retaliate. I’ll go further than that,” he added with a covert glance at the clock; “I’ll see what I can do to turn the trick!” “I don’t see _how_ it can be done without doing something we can’t stoop to do,” replied Mrs. Burgess with a hopeful quaver in her voice. “We must do no stooping,” Webster agreed heartily. “It would be far from us to resort to the coarse kidnapping tactics of the Gurleys. And of course you can’t go to the mat with Mrs. Gurley in the trainshed. A rough and tumble scrap right there before the Illyrians would be undignified and give ’em a quaint notion of the social habits of the corn belt. But gently and firmly to guide the Illyrian commissioners to our humble home, throw them a luncheon, show ’em the family album and after the show at the statehouse give ’em a whirl to the art institute, and walk ’em through the Illyrian relief rooms, where a pretty little Illyrian girl dressed in her native costume would hand ’em flowers--that’s the ticket.” “Oh, Web, you are always so helpful when you want to be! That’s the most beautiful idea about the flowers. And perhaps a _group_ of Illyrian children would do some folk dances! I’m sure the visitors would be deeply touched by that.”