"Then you _will_ help me, Mrs Nash?" I cried, running up to her, and
taking it all for granted.
She first looked amazed, then angry, and finally she smiled.
"I never said so. You're a sight too independent for my taste, you are.
_I_ ain't a-goin' to put my fingers into where I ain't wanted."
"But you _are_ wanted, and you will be a brick, I know!" cried I, almost
hugging her in my eagerness.
The battle was won, and that morning I went down to the office
positively jubilant. My party was fixed for Thursday!
I felt particularly important when the time came for inviting Doubleday
and Crow to the festive assembly. I had rehearsed as I walked along the
very words and tones I would use. On no account must they suppose the
giving of a party was the momentous event it really proved itself.
"By the way, Doubleday," said I, in as off-hand a manner as I could
assume, after some preliminary talk on different matters--"by the way,
could you come up to supper on Thursday? Just the usual lot, you know."
I could have kicked myself for the way I blushed and stammered as I was
delivering this short oration.
Doubleday gazed at me half curiously, half perplexed.
"Eh--supper? Oh, rather! Where's it to be? Mansion House or
Guildhall?"