"
"Oh, how _lovely_! I'll be thinking of it every minute. Don't forget.
Good-bye!"
She blew him a kiss and flitted daintily into the house.
William blushed furiously at the blown kiss and descended from his
precarious perch.
He went to the library where his grown-up sister Ethel and his elder
brother Robert were standing on ladders at opposite ends of the room,
engaged in hanging up festoons of ivy and holly across the wall.
There was to be dancing in the library after supper. William's mother
watched them from a safe position on the floor.
[Illustration: "IF YOU'LL BE IN YOUR SUMMER-HOUSE AT HALF-PAST, I'LL
BRING YOU SOME CREAM BLANC-MANGE. TRULY I WILL!" SAID WILLIAM.]
"Look here, mother," began William. "Am I or am I not coming to the
party to-night?"
William's mother sighed.
"For goodness' sake, William, don't open that discussion again. For
the tenth time to-day, you are _not_!"
"But _why_ not?" he persisted. "I only want to know why not. That's
all I want to know. It looks a bit funny, doesn't it, to give a party
and leave out your only son, at least,"--with a glance at Robert, and a
slight concession to accuracy--"to leave out one of your only two
sons? It looks a bit queer, surely. That's all I'm thinking of--how it
will look."
"A bit higher your end," said Ethel.
"Yes, that's better," said William's mother.
"It's a _young_ folks' party," went on William, warming to his
subject.
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