“I was saying I thought it strange Mr. Knapp wouldn't go with us, and he got awfully cross when I pressed him, and said--oh, Mr. Wilton, he said such a dreadful word--that he'd be everlastingly somethinged if he would ever go into such a lot of dens of--oh, I can't repeat his dreadful language--but wasn't it strange, Mr. Wilton?” “Very,” I said diplomatically; “but it isn't worth while to wait for him, then.” “Oh, laws, no!--he'll be home to-morrow, but he won't go.” “Home to-morrow!” I exclaimed. “I thought he wasn't to come till Wednesday.” Mrs. Bowser looked a little uncomfortable. “I guess he's old enough to come and go when he likes,” she said. But her flow of words seemed to desert her. “Very true,” I admitted. “I wonder what's bringing him back in such a hurry.” Mrs. Bowser's beady eyes turned on me in doubt, and for a moment she was dumb. Then she followed this miracle by another, and spoke in a low tone of voice. “It's not for me to say anything against a man in his own house, but I don't like to talk of Doddridge Knapp.” “What's the matter?” I asked. “A little rough in his speech? Oh, Mrs. Bowser, you should make allowances for a man who has had to fight his way in the roughest business life in the world, and not expect too much of his polish.” “Oh, laws, he's polite enough,” whispered Mrs. Bowser. “It ain't that--oh, I don't see how she ever married him.” I followed the glance that Mrs. Bowser gave on interrupting herself with this declaration, and saw Mrs. Knapp approaching us. “Oh,” she exclaimed cheerily, “is it all settled? Have you made all the arrangements, Cousin Julia?” “Well, I declare! I'd forgotten all about telling him,” cried Mrs. Bowser in her shrillest tone. “I'd just taken it for a fact that he'd know when to come.” “That's a little too much to expect, I'm afraid,” said Mrs. Knapp, smiling gaily at Mrs. Bowser's management. “I see that I shall have to arrange this thing myself. Will Monday night suit you, Henry?” “As well as another,” said I politely, concealing my feelings as a victim of feminine diplomacy. “You have told him who are going, haven't you?” said Mrs. Knapp to Mrs. Bowser. “Laws, no! I never thought but what he knew.” “Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Knapp. “What a gift as a mind-reader Mr. Wilton ought to have! Well, I suppose I'd better not trust to that, Henry. There's to be Mrs. Bowser, of course, and Mr. and Mrs. Carter, and Mr. Horton, and--oh, yes--Luella.” My heart gave a jump, and the trip to Chinatown suddenly became an object of interest. “I, mama?” said an inquiring voice, and Luella herself stood by her mother. “Yes,” said Mrs. Knapp. “It's the Chinatown expedition for Monday night.” Luella looked annoyed, and tapped her foot to the floor impatiently. “With Mr. Wilton,” there was the slightest emphasis on the words, “to accompany the party, I shouldn't think it would be necessary for me to go.” “It is either you or I,” said Mrs. Knapp.