Ericson,  Dick  sent  down  to  me  about  an  hour  ago,  to
know  if  I  had  any  cards.  I  was  out,  but  I  got  his
message  when  I  came  in  just  now,  and  thought  I'd  bring
'em  up  myself.  How  are  you?  {smiling  at  Phyllis)
One  pack's  nearly  new,  the  two  others  aren't  quite,  and,
in  fact,  I  don't  think  any  of  'em  are  perfect.  What  does
this  sudden  burst  of  dissipation  mean?

Phyll.  {gravely)  One  of  the  Trinity  has  got  a
birthday.
Herbp^rt.     {with  due  solemnity)     Ohoh!     Which  one?

Phyll.     Sir  Horace.     The  little  fat  one.
Herbert.     Is  that  the  one  they  call  "Waddles"?

Phyll.     Yes.
Mrs.  E.  I  do  hope  that  little  bed  in  the  box-room
will  hold  him.
Phyll.  Of  course  it  will  hold  him,  mother — he's  not
so  very  fat.     He's  "  just  comfortable."


WHEN  WE  WERE  TWENTY-ONE  5

Herbert.     He's  staying  here?

Phyll.  Dick's  putting  him  up  for  the  night,  other-
wise he'd  have  had  to  go  early  to  catch  the  last  train,
and  as  it's  his  birthday,  of  course  that  wouldn't  have
done  at  all.
Herbert,  (fanning  himself)  I  say— you're  awfully
hot  in  here.
Phyll.     Dick  would  have  a  fire.
Herbert.     Where's  the  Imp?

Phyll.  Oh,  the  Imp's  gone  out  to  have  a  quiet  even-
ing of  his  own.  He's  too  young  to  stand  the  shock  of
such  a  revel  as  this  party.
Herbert,  (chuckles)  H'm!  It  strikes  me  that  the
Imp  isn't  quite  as  young  as  he  looks.  Oh,  I  beg  your
pardon.   Miss   Ericson.
Phyll.     Not  at  all.
Herbert.  Somehow  it's  difficult  to  think  of  the  Imp
as  an  engaged  man.
Phyll.     It  is  very  difficult,   isn't  it?

Herbert.  He's  a  jolly  lucky  chap — oh,  I  beg  pardon,
I  didn't  mean  that.
