Amelia, however, was not going to give Emily a chance; for, having dressed with all the expedition compatible with an attractive toilet--a lavender-coloured satin with broad black lace flounces, and some heavy jewellery on her well-turned arms, she came sidling in so gently as almost to catch Emily in the act of playing the agreeable. Turning the sidle into a stately sail, with a haughty sort of sneer and toss of the head to her sister, as much as to say, 'What are you doing with my man?'--a sneer that suddenly changed into a sweet smile as her eye encountered Sponge's--she just motioned him off to a sofa, where she commenced a _sotto voce_ conversation in the engaged-couple style. [Illustration: MR. SPONGE AND THE MISSES JAWLEYFORD] The plot then began to thicken. First came Jawleyford, in a terrible stew. 'Well, this is too bad!' exclaimed he, stamping and flourishing a scented note, with a crest and initials at the top. 'This is too bad,' repeated he; 'people accepting invitations, and then crying off at the last moment.' 'Who is it can't come, papa--the Foozles?' asked Emily. 'No--Foozles be hanged,' sneered Jawleyford; 'they always come--_the Blossomnoses!_' replied he, with an emphasis. 'The Blossomnoses!' exclaimed both girls, clasping their hands and looking up at the ceiling. 'What, all of them?' asked Emily. 'All of them,' rejoined Jawleyford. 'Why, that's four,' observed Emily. 'To be sure it is,' replied Jawleyford; 'five, if you count them by appetites; for old Blossom always eats and drinks as much as two people.' 'What excuse do they give?' asked Amelia. 'Carriage-horse taken suddenly ill,' replied Jawleyford; 'as if that's any excuse when there are post-horses within half a dozen miles.' 'He wouldn't have been stopped hunting for want of a horse, I dare say,' observed Amelia. 'I dare say it's all a lie,' observed Jawleyford; adding, 'however, the invitation shall go for a dinner, all the same.'