ak his wonderment.

"D'you know, Emma, you were about the calmest and most serene mother
that I ever did see at a son's wedding. Of course I didn't expect you
to have hysterics, or anything like that. I've always said that, when
it came to repose and self-control, you could make the German Empress
look like a hoyden. But I always thought that, at such times, a mother
viewed her new daughter-in-law as a rival, that the very sight of her
filled her with a jealous rage like that of a tigress whose cub is
taken from her. I must say you were so smiling and urbane that I
thought it was almost uncomplimentary to the young couple. You didn't
even weep, you unnatural woman!"

Emma, seated before her dressing-table, stopped brushing her hair and
sat silent a moment, looking down with unseeing eyes at the brush in
her hand.

"I know it, T. A. Would you like to have me tell you why?"

He came over to her then and ran a tender hand down the length of her
bright hair. Then he kissed the top of her head. This satisfactory
performance he capped by saying:

"I think I know why. It's because the minister hesitated a minute and
looked from you to Grace and back again, not knowing which was the
bride. The way you looked in that dress, Emma, was enough to reconcile
any woman to losing her entire family."

"T. A., you do say the nicest things to me."

"Like 'em, Emma?"

"Like 'em? You know perfectly well that you never can offend me by
making me compliments like that. I not only like them; I actually
believe them!"

"That's because I mean them, Emma. Now, out with that reason!"

Emma stood up then and put her hands on his shoulders. But she was not
looking at him. She was gazing past him, her eyes dreamy,
contemplative.

"I don't know whether I'll be able to explain to you just how I feel
about it. I'll probably make a mess of it. But I'll try. You see,
dear, it's just this way: Two years ago--a year ago, even--I might
have felt just that sensation of personal resentment and loss. But
somehow, lately, I've been looking at life through--how shall I put
it?--through seven-league glasses. I used to see life in its relation
to me and mine. Now I see it in terms of my relation to it. Do you
get me? I was the soloist, and the world my orchestral accompaniment.
Lately, I've been content just to step back with the other instruments
and let my little share go to make up a more perfect whole. In those
years, long