V
When Mr. and Mrs. Warren were spinning softly homeward in a closed carriage, after the ceremony, said:
“Nevada, would you really like to know what I wrote you in the letter that you received tonight?”
“Fire away!” said his bride.
“Word for word,” said Gilbert, “it was this: ‘My dear Miss Warren—You were right about the flower. It was a , and not a .’ ”
“All right,” said Nevada. “But let’s forget it. The joke’s on Barbara, anyway!”