lized that
Ellen had made the natural mistake of supposing the fish was for the
down-stairs dinner, this being Friday, I had to think of something
to say, and nothing would come except that we wanted breakfast at
seven instead of at eight. It doesn't do to have servants suspect
you of spying upon them, nor is it wise ever to appear flustered--so
mamma says--in their presence. I avoided both by making Ellen
believe I'd come down to order an early breakfast."

"You are a great Bessie," said Thaddeus, with a laugh. "I admire
you more than ever, my dear, and to prove it I'd get up to breakfast
if you'd ordered it at 1 A.M."

"You'd be more likely to stay up to it," said Bessie, "and then go
to bed after it."

"There's your Napoleonic mind again," said Thaddeus. "I should
never have thought of that way out of it. But, Bess," he continued,
"when I was praising to-night's dinner I had a special object in
view. I think Ellen cooks well enough now to warrant us in giving a
dinner, don't you?"

"Well, it all depends on what we have for dinner," said Bessie.
"Ellen's biscuits are atrocious, I think, and you know how lumpy the
oatmeal always is."

"Suppose we try giving a dinner with the oatmeal and biscuit courses
left out?" suggested Thaddeus, with a grin.

Bessie's eyes twinkled. "You make very bright after-dinner
speeches, Teddy," she said. "I don't see why we can't have a dinner
with nothing but pretty china, your sparkling conversation, and a
few flowers strewn about. It would be particularly satisfactory to
me."

"They're not all angels like you, my dear," Thaddeus returned.
"There's Bradley, for instance. He'd die of starvation before we
got to the second course in a dinner of that kind, and if there is
any one thing that can cast a gloom over a dinner, it is to have one
of the guests die of starvation right in the middle of it."

"Mr. Bradley would never do so ungentlemanly a thing," said Bessie,
laughing heartily. "He is too considerate a man for that; he'd
starve in silence and without ostentation."

"Why this sudden access of confidence in Bradley?" queried Thaddeus.
"I thought you didn't like him?"

"Neither I did, until that Sunday he spent with us," Bessie
answered. "I've admired him intensely ever since. Don't you
remember, we had lemon pie for dinner--one I made myself?"

"Yes, I remember," said Thaddeus; "but I fail to see the connection
between lemon pie and Bradley. Bradley is not s