"
Within two hours came the reply. I opened it.
"Will supply luncheon for six, 1.15 to-day."
"Can you remember what your wire said, Willoughby?" I asked mildly.
"Rather. 'Can you provide luncheon for six at 1.15.--Willoughby.'"
"Exactly. Can't you see, you silly ass, how you've muffed it? Read
this." Willoughby read, while Sylvia and Molly looked over and
giggled.
"Hang it all! I suppose I ought to have said to-morrow," he sighed.
"Here, Thompson, you and Hilda, as the married couple of the party,
ought to deal with these beastly emergencies."
"Not I," I replied. "You've got us in the muddle, now get us out. Wire
and say it's for to-morrow."
"And then," said my practical wife, "we shall get to-day's hot lunch
cold to-morrow, and a rapacious Scotch-woman will charge us for it
twice over."
"I wish you would say 'Scots,' not 'Scotch,'" complained MacFadden.
"Sorry, Kiltie," rejoined Hilda; "and perhaps one of you two will deal
with the Scots woman."
"Leave her to me and none of you interfere," answered MacFadden.
"Willoughby is no good at a job that needs tact. He's not half as
lovable as I am either. Is he, Molly? We'll send the wire at once.
Come on."
Next day the steamer dropped us into the ferry-boat off Lochrie Bay,
and our bicycles, more frightened than hurt, but much shaken, were
hurled in after us.
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