t
Marcia made up her mind to try and like her.

Hannah's frock was of silk, not a common material in those days, soft and
shimmery and green enough to take away the heart from anything blue that
was ever made, but Hannah was stately and her skin as white as the lily
she resembled, in her bright leaf green.

Hannah chose to be effusive and condescending to the bride, giving the
impression that she and David had been like brother and sister all their
lives and that she might have been his choice if she had chosen, but as
she had not chosen, she was glad that David had found some one wherewith
to console himself. She did not say all this in so many words, but Marcia
found that impression left after the evening was over.

With sweet dignity Marcia received her introductions, given in Miss
Amelia's most commanding tone, "Our niece, Marcia!"

"Marshy! Marshy!" the bride heard old Mrs. Heath murmur to Miss Spafford.
"Why, I thought 'twas to be Kate!"

"Her name is Marcia," said Miss Amelia in a most satisfied tone; "you must
have misunderstood."

Marcia caught a look in Miss Heath's eyes, alert, keen, questioning, which
flashed all over her like something searching and bright but not friendly.

She felt a painful shyness stealing over her and wished that David were by
her side. She looked across the room at him. His face had recovered its
usual calmness, though he looked pale. He was talking on his favorite
theme with old Mr. Heath: the newly invented steam engine and its
possibilities. He had forgotten everything else for the time, and his face
lighted with animation as he tried to answer William Heath's arguments
against it.

"Have you read what the Boston _Courier_ said, David? 'Long in June it was
I think," Marcia heard Mr. Heath ask. Indeed his voice was so large that
it filled the room, and for the moment Marcia had been left to herself
while some new people were being ushered in. "It says, David, that 'the
project of a railroad from Bawston to Albany is impracticable as everybody
knows who knows the simplest rule of arithmetic, and the expense would be
little less than the market value of the whole territory of Massachusetts;
and which, if practicable, every person of common sense knows would be as
useless as a railroad from Bawston to the moon.' There, David, what do ye
think o' that?" and William Heath slapped David on the knee with his
broad, fat fist and laughed heartily, as though he had him in a tight
cor