“I did,” said Mrs. Upton, pursing her lips to keep from indulging in a smile.  “As soon as you left this morning I wrote Walter a note, telling him that you had been hurriedly called to Philadelphia on business, and that you’d asked me to let him know, not having time to do it yourself.  And I closed by saying that we had two seats for ‘Cavalleria,’ and that, as my expected guest had disappointed me, I hoped he might come in if he felt like it during the afternoon and hear Calve.  That’s his answer.  I enclosed him the ticket.”

“So that—­” said Upton, beginning to comprehend.

“So that Molly and Walter are at the opera together.  Hemmed in on both sides, so that they can’t escape, with the Intermezzo before them!” said Mrs. Upton, with an air of triumph which was beautiful to look upon.

“Well, you are a genius!” cried Upton, finding his wife’s enthusiasm contagious.  “I’m almost afraid of you!”

“And you don’t think I did wrong to fib?” asked Mrs. Upton.

[Illustration:  During the Intermezzo.]

“Oh, as for that,” said Upton, “all geniuses lie!  An abnormal development in one direction always indicates an abnormal lack of development in another.  Your bump of ingenuity has for the moment absorbed your bump of veracity; but I say, my dear, I wonder if they’ll speak?”

“Speak?” echoed Mrs. Upton.  “Speak?  Why, of course they will!  Everybody talks at the opera,” she added, joyously.

An hour later the door-bell rang, and the maid announced Miss Meeker and Dr. Bliss.  They entered radiant, and not in the least embarrassed.

“Why, how do you do?” said Upton, as calmly as though nothing had happened.  “Didn’t see you at the club,” he added, with a sly wink at his wife.

“Thought you were out of town,” said Bliss; and then he turned and glanced inquiringly at the lovely deceiver.  But Mrs. Upton said nothing.  She was otherwise engaged; for Molly, upon entering the room, had walked directly to her side, and throwing her arms about her neck, kissed her several times most affectionately.

“You dear old thing!” she whispered.

“Mrs.—­Upton—­I’m very much obliged to you for a very pleasant afternoon,” stammered Bliss, recovering from his surprise, the true inwardness of the situation dawning upon him, “as well as for—­a good many pleasant afternoons to come.  I—­ah—­I didn’t see—­ah—­Molly until I got seated.”

“No,” said Molly; “and if he could have gotten away without disturbing a lot of people, I think he’d have gone when he realized where he was.  And he wouldn’t speak until the Intermezzo was half through.”

“Well, I tried hard not to even then,” said Walter; “but somehow or other, when the Intermezzo got going, I couldn’t help it, and—­well, it’s to be next month.”

And so it was.  The wedding took place six weeks later; and all through the service the organist played the Intermezzo in subdued tones, which some people thought rather peculiar—­but then they were not aware of all the circumstances.