"No, I don't care to," she repeated. "You can go to the other if you want to. I am not going to say any more on the subject. I do not ask you to humor my little whims, but I wanted to say what I did before you telephoned." Mrs. Porter looked at her husband with such a wistful, pathetic little smile that Tom came over and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll not _go_," he exclaimed, "if that _is_ what he wants. I'll stay at home with you." "You are too good, Tom. I suspect I am silly, but it seems so wicked. Now you had better call him up." When Tom got upstairs, he placed the receiver to his ear. Telephone: ("Number?") Tom: "Give me seven-eleven, please." ("Seven-double-one?") "Yes, please." Tom whistled while he waited. Telephone: ("Hello.") "Is that you, Evan?" ("Yes. Hello, Tom. Say, Tom, I am going to have a little bunch around here after a bit to see if we can't make our books balance, and I want you to come. And say, bring around that forty-five you took away with you last time. We want it. We are after you. We are going to strip you. Perhaps you had better bring an extra suit in a case.") "I am sorry, old man, but I can't come." ("Can't what?") "Can't come." ("'Y, you tight wad. You'd better come.") "Can't do it, Andy. I'm sorry." ("Are you going to the Tad-Wallington dance?") "No, not that. Mis'es doesn't want to go, but I simply can't come." Sarcastically. ("I guess the Mis'es shut down on this, too.") "No, I'm tired." ("Well, maybe we're not tired--of you taking money away from us. And now when we've all got a hunch that you are going to lose you get cold feet.") "No, I'd like to, but I _just can't_." ("Well, admit, like a man, it's the Mis'es said no and I'll let you off.") "Are you a mind-reader?" ("No, but I'm married.") "You win." ("Well, I'm sorry you can't be with us. Christmas will be coming along bye and bye, and you will need the money.") "I expect." ("Mis'es will want a present, and she ought to let you get a little more ahead.") "That's true." ("Well, so long. Toast your feet before you go to bed. And you'd better put a cloth around your neck.") "Here, don't rub it in. It hurts me worse than you." ("All right. I know you are as sorry as we are. I know how it is. My Mis'es will be at home next week and this will be the last one, so I wanted you to come. Good-by.") "Good-by. Oh, say! Wait a minute. I've got an idea." ("Good; use it.") "Wait now. Wait now, I am thinking." Tom was trying to recall if he had closed the parlor door when he came upstairs. "Yes, I think I did." ("Think you did what?") "Nothing. I wasn't talking to you. I was thinking. Say, put your ear close to the telephone. I've got to talk low." ("Why, I have got the thing right against my ear anyway. What are you talking about?")