tly," and Sue gathered together her gloves and
hand-bag.

"She's very good-looking--it's a pity her hair is so gray," she breathed
in his ear. As the two women stood together a moment on the landing he
realized, not for the first time, that Sue was a little too small. But
he had never thought her sallow before.

Peter came in by the greenhouse door, walking slowly, his hands behind
his back. He looked old for the first time in his jolly, persistently
boyish life.

"Those chrysanthemums are all drying up," he complained fretfully; "not
one of the blamed servants has done a thing since--since--O Lord, Will,
what shall we be doing this time tomorrow? Where are the children?
Where's Miss Strong? There's a woman for you! Caddy took to her
directly. She's there now. She's talking to her about the children. Oh,
my God!"

Belden grasped his hand and they walked silently up and down the hall.

"Aunt Lucia's coming to-night," Peter resumed nervously. "She will drive
me mad. Take care of her, will you? If I could have choked her off--but
when you think she was just like a mother to Cad all these years, what
can you do? She's got a right. You'd think she'd have got some sense
from living with Cad so long. I told Henry to go for her--and there you
are," he added, as the cart drew up before the open door.

Belden went slowly down the steps; he detested Aunt Lucia, and Clarice
had always stood between them.

"How do you do?" he began, assisting her from the high seat. Her long
crape veil caught in the wheel, and the numberless black and floating
ends of her costume wound themselves about him as he bent down to
disentangle her.

"Oh, Wilmot, this is a terrible day for us all, is it not? Be careful
of the hem of that veil, please. When I kissed Clarice good-by last
Christmas I little thought _what_ a good-by it was! Is she conscious?
You have muddied the boa, I think, but never mind. Can I see her once
more?"

"For Heaven's sake, Aunt Lucia, anybody would think Caddy was in
her grave! She's a long way from it yet, thank God! Of course she's
conscious, and spunky as the--as ever. I don't think you really needed
to--"

"My dear Wilmot, I prepared Clarice for her confirmation, I dressed
her for her wedding, and I was here when the children were born. If you
think that I would fail her in this crisis you have a very poor idea of
my character. But then, I am perfectly aware that you always had. Oh,
there is Peter! My poor Peter