won't be a bad
thing for you today." He gave the younger man a playful pull around
the end of the table. "You know, I find that all bridegrooms get into
a very exaggerated state of self-examination and self-blame just before
they marry. You're running true to form." He took Wallace's arm
affectionately.

As they entered the drawing-room, Mrs. Milo uprose from the sofa, hands
thrown wide in a quick warning. "Oh, don't bring him in!" she cried,
looking for all the world like an excited figurine.

"It's bad luck!" chimed in Mrs. Balcome, realizing the state of affairs
without turning.

The younger women at the table had also risen, and now Hattie came
forward to meet the men, smiling at Farvel, and picking out the
flounces of her gown to invite his approval.

"Oh, you shouldn't see it till tomorrow," complained Mrs. Milo,
appealing to her son.

Farvel laughed. "How could it bring anyone bad luck?" he demanded;
"--to see such a picture." He halted, one arm about Wallace's shoulder.

"Do you like it?" cried Hattie. "Do you really? Oh, I'm glad!"

Sue, puzzled, was watching Farvel, who seemed so unwontedly
good-spirited, even gay. "Why, Mr. Farvel," she interposed;
"I--I--never thought you noticed clothes--not--not anybody's clothes."
She looked down at her own dress a little ruefully. It was of serge,
dark, neat, but well worn.

"Well, I don't as a rule," he laughed. "But this creation wouldn't
escape even a blind man." Hands in pockets, and head to one side, he
admired the slowly circling satin-and-tulle.

Before Sue, on the table, was a morning newspaper; behind her, on the
piano, the vestment which Mrs. Milo had thrown down. Quickly covering
the garment with the paper, Sue caught up both and made toward the hall
door.

"Susan dear!" Her mother smiled across Mrs. Balcome's trembling
plumes. "Where are you going?"

"Er--some--some extra chairs," ventured Sue. "I thought--one or
two----"

Mrs. Milo crossed the room leisurely. The trio absorbed in the
wedding-gown were laughing and chatting together. Mrs. Balcome had
rushed heavily to the bay-window in the wake of the poodle, who, from
the window-seat, was barking, black nose against the glass, at some
venturesome sparrows. Quietly Mrs. Milo took paper and vestment from
Sue and tucked them under an arm. "We have plenty of chairs," she said
sweetly.

"Yes," assented Sue, obediently; "yes, I--I suppose we have." Her eyes
fell before her