r mother.

Sue tried the other shoulder. "Well, I--I might need it for something
special," she explained.

"Will you please stop that performance?" demanded her mother. "My
daughter, the dress is ridiculous!"

Sue stared. "Ridiculous?"

"Showy--loud."

"But--but it's my bridesmaid's dress."

"I tell you, it's unsuited--a woman of forty-five! Please go and
change."

"Oh, come now," put in Balcome, a little sharply. "You never think of
Sue as being forty-five." Then with a large wave of the hand in Sue's
direction, "What do you want to make her feel older than she is for?"

"I had _no_ such intention," retorted Mrs. Milo, coldly--and
righteously. "On the contrary, I think Susan is well preserved."

"Preserved!" gasped Sue, both hands to her head.

"Preserved grandmother!" scoffed Balcome. "Sue looks like a bride
herself. Sue, when that parson gets his eye on you----"

Mrs. Milo saw herself outdone. Her safety lay in harassing him.
"Speaking of eyes, Mr. Balcome," she said sweetly, "it strikes me that
yours look as if you'd been up all night."

Mrs. Balcome rose to the stimulus. "Susan!" she summoned.

"Yes, dear lady?"

"You will kindly ask my husband----"

"Go ahead, Mrs. Balcome," invited Sue, resignedly. And, turning an
imaginary handle, "Ting-a-ling-ling!"

Mrs. Milo, beaming with satisfaction, made her way daintily to the
passage door. "I think I'll call the choir," she observed, and
disappeared.

Like a war steed pawing the earth with impatient hoof, Mrs. Balcome
tapped the carpet. Her eye was set, her mouth was pursed. Though her
dress was of some soft material, she seemed fairly to bristle. "How
long has Hattie's father been in town?" she demanded.

"But you don't care," reminded Sue.

"How long?" persisted the other.

With comical gravity, Sue turned upon Balcome. "How long has Hattie's
father been in town?" she echoed. And as he held up all the fingers of
one hand, "Oh, two--or three--or four"--a cautious testing of Mrs.
Balcome's temper.

That lady's ample bosom rose and fell tempestuously. "And I've had
everything to do!" she complained; "--everything! Why haven't we seen
him before?"

"Mister Man," questioned Sue, "why haven't we seen you before?"

Balcome rubbed his hands together, chuckling. "Yes, why? Why?"

"Business, Mrs. Balcome," parried Sue; "--press of business."

"Business!" cried the elder woman, scornfully. "Huh!--and where is he
staying?"