Mitchells_? Mitchell, your hero in your office, that
you're always being offended with--at _least_ I know the Mitchells by
_name_. I ought to.'

'Well, what do you think they've done? They've asked us to dinner.'

'Have they? Fancy!'

'Yes, and what I thought was so particularly jolly of him was that it
was a verbal invitation. Mitchell said to me, just like this, 'Ottley,
old chap, are you doing anything on Sunday evening?''

Here Archie came to the door and said, 'Mother, can I have your long
buttonhook?'

Edith shook her head and frowned.

''Ottley, old chap,'' continued Bruce, ''are you and your wife doing
anything on Sunday? If not, I do wish you would waive ceremony and come
and dine with us. Would Mrs Ottley excuse a verbal invitation, do you
think?' I said, 'Well, Mitchell, as a matter of fact I don't believe we
have got anything on. Yes, old boy, we shall be delighted.' I accepted,
you see. I accepted straight out. When you're treated in a friendly
way, I always say why be unfriendly? And Mrs Mitchell is a charming
little woman--I'm sure you'd like her. It seems she's been dying to
know you.'

'Fancy! I wonder she's still alive, then, because you and Mitchell have
known each other for eight years, and I've never met her yet.'

'Well, you will now. Let bygones be bygones. They live in Hamilton
Place.'

'Oh yes....Park Lane?'

'I told you he was doing very well, and his wife has private means.'

'Mother,' Archie began again, like a litany, 'can I have your long
buttonhook? I know where it is.'

'No, Archie, certainly not; you can't fasten laced boots with a
buttonhook.... Well, that will be fun, Bruce.'

'I believe they're going to have games after dinner,' said Bruce. 'All
very jolly--musical crambo--that sort of thing.... What shall you wear,
Edith?'

'Mother, do let me have your long buttonhook. I want it. It isn't for
my boots.'

'_Certainly_ not. What a nuisance you are! Do go away.... I think I
shall wear my salmon-coloured dress with the sort of mayonnaise-
coloured sash.... (No, you're not to have it, Archie).'

'But, Mother, I've got it.... I can soon mend it, Mother.'

On Sunday evening Bruce's high spirits seemed to flag; he had one of
his sudden reactions. He looked at everything on its dark side.

'What on earth's that thing in your hair, Edith?'

'It's a bandeau.'

'I don't like it. Your hair looks very nice without it. What on _earth_
did you get it for?'

'For about si