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“Sh!” Then into the phone, “Well, it certainly is too bad, Charley. No, it’s no trouble for us at all. We’re just sorry you’re ill.”

With a dismal gesture Michael replaced the receiver.

“The Lawrence girl had to go home last night and Charley’s sick in bed with grippe.”

“Do you mean he can’t come?”

“He can’t come.”

Marion’s face contracted suddenly and her eyes filled with tears.

“He says he’s had the doctor all day,” explained Michael dejectedly. “He’s got fever and they didn’t even want him to go to the telephone.”

“I don’t care,” sobbed Marion. “I think it’s terrible. After we’ve invited all these people to meet him.”

“People can’t help being sick.”

“Yes they can,” she wailed illogically. “They can help it some way. And if the Lawrence girl was going to leave last night why didn’t he let us know then?”

“He said she left unexpectedly. Up to yesterday afternoon they both intended to come.”

“I don’t think he c-cares a bit. I’ll bet he’s glad he’s sick. If he’d cared he’d have brought her to see us long ago.”