“What’s the matter with Mrs. Post?” queried Miss Castlevaine.

“Something about her knee—­she told me the doctor was going to bandage it up.  It was Mrs. Post, you know!” Mrs. Crump emphasized the sentence with lowered voice and lifted eyebrows.

Miss Castlevaine nodded.  “No favorites in the June Holiday Home!  How did you like the dinner yesterday noon?” She smiled knowingly.

“It’s good-bye, pudding, forevermore!” laughed Miss Crilly.  “Didn’t it seem queer not to have a bit of dessert?”

“Same as other days,” returned Miss Major.  “I suppose the Sunday pie will go next.”

“So I heard!” Miss Castlevaine’s lips thinned themselves together.  “But that isn’t the worst thing!  Do you know about Mrs. Dick?”

“No—­what?” Miss Crilly stopped smelling of the roses.

“Why, Tuesday she met an old schoolmate on the street who inquired if she had been ill.  Mrs. Dick said no.  ’Why didn’t you come to the wedding, then?’ the lady asked.  ‘Wedding?’ exclaimed Mrs. Dick; ‘what wedding?’ ‘Why, Anita’s!’ (Anita is her daughter.) ’I didn’t know she was going to be married, and it isn’t likely I should have gone without an invitation,’ she laughed.  ’I invited you,’ the lady said.  ’It was a very informal affair, no cards, and not many guests; but I telephoned to the Home, for you to come over and spend the day.  I wanted you to see Anita’s pretty clothes and her beautiful presents.  They said they’d give you the message right off.’  ‘First I’ve heard of it!’ said Mrs. Dick, and I tell you she was mad!  Isn’t that awful?  If anything happens to us, I don’t know as our friends will hear of it till after the funeral—­huh!”

“Is she going to make a fuss about it?” asked Miss Major.

“Of course not!  She’d probably be turned out if she did.”

“What are we coming to!” For a minute Miss Crilly actually looked doleful.  “I’m going to tell all my folks that if they want me to know anything in a hurry they’d better telegraph or send me a special delivery letter—­that’ll fix ’em.  My!  To think of bein’ invited to a weddin’ and not knowin’ it!”

“When I first came here,” resumed Miss Castlevaine, “my cousin was dreadfully upset because they wouldn’t call me to the telephone to talk with her.  Finally she said so much they gave in, and I went down.  I supposed it was the regular thing until she told me about it afterwards.  She had to ask me two or three questions about something, and get my answers to know what to do.”

“There should be a telephone in every room, as there is in a hotel,” asserted Miss Major.

“Oh, my!” ejaculated Miss Crilly.  “When you get it, send me word!  Probably I shan’t be here by that time, but I guess I shall be hoverin’ somewhere round, and I’ll know when your ’phone’s in!”

“To have one in each room would be a great deal of expense,” said Mrs. Crump.

“What of it!” retorted Miss Major.  “Haven’t they money enough?  They’re always building additions—­now the one that’s going to spoil Miss Sterling’s room and Miss Twining’s down below.  They’d a good deal better spend it on telephones.”