n a fresh burst from Mrs. Balcome.
"Oh, what did I say what I did for!"

"Don't cry! Don't cry!" comforted Wallace. "We'll hunt for her.
Police, and detectives----"

A crash of piano notes interrupted from the drawing-room. Then through
open door and windows floated the first bars of "Comin' Thro' the
Rye"--with an accompaniment in rag-time. As one the group in the Close
turned toward the house.

"Hattie?" exclaimed Mrs. Balcome.

"Hattie!" faltered Wallace.

"Hattie!"--it was a crisp bass summons from Hattie's father.

Hattie put her head out at the door. "Good-morning, mother!" she
called cheerily. "Good-morning, dad! Good-morning,--Wallace."

"Where did you spend last night?" asked Mrs. Balcome, rising. Anger
took the place of grief, for Hattie was wearing an adorable house frock
culled from her trousseau--a frock combined of rose voile and French
gingham. And such a selection on this particular morning----

Hattie sauntered to the sun-dial. "Last night?" She pointed to that
upper guest-room window.

Her mother was shocked. "You don't mean to tell me that you slept
_here_!"

"When the telephone wasn't ringing,"--whereat Ikey grinned.

"You slept here _unchaperoned_?"

"Oh, Sue was home."

"Oh, what's the matter with you, Hattie? You're not like other girls!"

"Well, have I been raised like other girls?"

At this, Mrs. Balcome became fully roused. "You'll pack your things
and come right out of that house!" she cried. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes, mother.--Ikey dear, find Mr. Farvel and tell him his breakfast is
ready." Then with a proprietary air, "And Miss Balcome says he must
eat it while it's hot."

Wallace straightened, his face suddenly flushing.

"Dear me, aren't we concerned about Mr. Farvel's breakfast!" exclaimed
Mrs. Balcome, mockingly.

"We are."

"But not a word for this poor boy. One would think you were going to
marry Farvel instead of Wallace."

"But--am I going to marry Wallace?"

Wallace swayed toward her. "Oh, you can't--you _can't_ turn me down!"

"Ah, Wallace!" she said sadly.

"Mrs. Balcome, _you_ don't think I deserve this?"

"Now don't be hasty, Hattie," advised her mother. "Everything's ready.
Our friends are coming. Are you going to send them away?"

"Messages have gone--to tell everyone not to come."

"Oh!" Wallace turned away, his head sunk between his shoulders.

"What will Buffalo think of you!" cried Mrs. Balcome.

"Buffalo," answered