. Yet in this
instance not a gay place. It was spacious, sombre, severe.

"And now," said Fanny, after the hat had been properly praised, "tell
me when it is to be?"

"When is what to be?"

"You and Arthur?"

"Next autumn."

"I shall send a fish knife," said Fanny, savorously. "A fish knife
always looks so big and costs so little. Though if I could I would
give you a diamond crown."

"Give me your promise to be bridesmaid, and you will have given me
what I want from you most."

"But what am I to wear? And oh, Sylvia, how am I to get it? I don't
dare any more to so much as look in on Annette, or Juliette, or
Marguerite. There are streets into which I can no longer go. I told
Loftus that, and he said--so sympathetically too--'Ah, is it memories
that prevent you?' 'Rubbish,' I told him, 'it's bills.'"

"Fanny! How could you? He might have offered to pay them."

"If he had only offered to owe them!" Fanny laughed as she spoke and
patted her perfect skirt.

"But he has other fish to fry. Do you know the other day I saw him--"

But what Fanny had seen was never told, or at least not then.
Annandale was invading the parlor.

"Conquering hero!" cried Fanny. "I am here congratulating Sylvia."

"I congratulate myself that you are. I have a motor at the door, and I
propose to take you both to Sherry's, afterward, if you like, to the
races. There you may congratulate me."

"What is this about Sherry's?" Again the parlor was invaded. This time
by Sylvia's mother. She had bright cheeks, bright eyes, bright hair.
In her voice was indulgence, in her manner ease. She gave a hand to
Fanny, the other to Annandale.

"In my day," she resumed, "girls did not go lunching without someone
to look after them."

"They certainly did not go to Sherry's," said Annandale. "There was no
Sherry's to go to. But why won't you come with us?"

"Thank you, Arthur. It is not because Fanny or Sylvia needs looking
after. But when I was their age anything of the sort would have been
thought so common. Yet then, what was common at that time seems to
have been accepted since. Now, there is a chance to call me
old-fashioned."

"I can do better than that," said Annandale, "I can call you grande
dame."

"Yes," Fanny threw in, "and that, don't you think, is so superior to
being merely--ahem--demned grand."

"Why, Fanny!" And Mrs. Waldron, at once amused at the jest and
startled at the expression, shook her finger at her.

But Annandale h