--Mr. Grosvenor."
"Why, bless your ardent little Heart! Writing, are you?
It's sublime, Bab!"
"Where does he live?"
"And is it all alone you are, on Xmas Night!" he burbled.
(This is a word from Alice in WonderLand, and although not in
the dictionery, is quite expressive.)
"Yes," I replied, bitterly. "I am old enough to be married
off without my consent, but I am not old enough for a real Ball.
It makes me sick."
"I can smuggle him here, if you want to talk to him."
"Smuggle!" I said, with scorn. "There is no need to smuggle
him. The Familey is crazy about him. They are flinging me at
him."
"Well, that's nice," he said. "Who'd have thought it! Shall
I bring him to the 'phone?"
"I don't want to talk to him. I hate him."
"Look here," he observed, "if you keep that up, he'll begin
to beleive you. Don't take these little quarrels too hard,
Barbara. He's so happy to-night in the thought that you----"
"Does he live in a Cabinet, or where?"
"In a what? I don't get that word."
"Don't bother. Where shall I send his letter?"
Well, it seemed he had an apartment at the Arcade, and I
rang off.
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