e here," broke in her mother's gentle
voice.

Anne laid her bouquet on the centre table. "Come and kiss Anne Pierson
for the last time, girls." She opened her arms. One by one they folded
her in the embrace of friendship. Her sister and mother came last. As
the arms that had held her in babyhood closed about her, Anne drew
nearer to her mother in this, her hour of supreme happiness, than ever
before, if that were possible.

It was not a long drive to the church. On the way there they stopped to
pick up the two flower girls, Anna May and Elizabeth Angerell, two
pretty and interesting children who lived next door to Grace, and of
whom she and Anne had always been very fond. The little flower maidens
were dressed in white embroidered chiffon frocks with pale yellow satin
sashes and hair ribbons. They wore white silk stockings and white kid
slippers and carried overflowing baskets of yellow and white roses.

"Oh, Miss Harlowe," cried Anna May, when she and Elizabeth were safely
settled in the carriage, one of them on the seat beside Grace, the other
on the opposite side with Anne, "this is about the happiest day
Elizabeth and I ever had. I do hope I won't be scared. Just think, we
have to walk into that great big church, the very first ones, with all
those people looking at us."

"I'm not the least bit scared," was Elizabeth's bold declaration.
"Nobody is going to hurt us. Why, all the people are Miss Anne's
_friends!_ I'm going to think that when I walk up the aisle, and I
shan't be a bit scared. I know I shan't."

"Well, I'm not exactly _scared_," asserted Anna May, greatly impressed
with Elizabeth's valiant declaration. "I guess I'll think that, too."

"Oh, Miss Anne, you look too sweet for anything." Elizabeth clasped her
small hands in rapture. "When I grow up I shall certainly be married,
and have a dress like yours, and just the same kind of a bouquet, and be
married in the church where every one can see me."

"You can't get married unless some one asks you," informed Anna May
wisely.

"Some one will," predicted Elizabeth. "Won't they, Miss Harlowe?"

"I haven't the least doubt of it," was Grace's laughing assurance.
"Still I wouldn't worry about it for a good many years yet, if I were
you. It's just as nice to be a little girl and play games and dress
dolls."

Anne smiled faintly. Grace was again unconsciously voicing her views on
the marriage question.

The two little flower girls kept up a lively con