d, of the same blood
relationship; and lots more of people from Washington Square and Murray
Hill, who loved the young people, and Peter, and his outspoken sister,
all of whom must be invited to the ceremony; including the Rector and
his wife from Corklesville, and--(no--that was all from Corklesville)
together with such selected inhabitants of Geneseo as dame Felicia
permitted inside of her doors. As for the several ambassadors, generals,
judges, dignitaries, attaches, secretaries, and other high and mighty
folks forming the circle of Miss Felicia's acquaintance, both here
and abroad, they were only to receive "announcement" cards, just as a
reminder that Miss Grayson of Geneseo was still in and of the world.

The hardest nut of all to crack was given to Jack. They had all talked
it over, the dear girl saying "of course he shall come, Jack, if you
would like to have him." Jack adding that he should "never forget his
generosity," and MacFarlane closing the discussion by saying:

"Go slow, Jack. I'd say yes in a minute. I am past all those foolish
prejudices, but it isn't your house, remember. Better ask Peter--he'll
tell you."

Peter pursed his mouth when Jack laid the matter before him in Peter's
room the next day, tipped his head so far on one side that it looked as
if it might roll off any minute and go smash, and with an arching of his
eyebrows said:

"Well, but why NOT invite Isaac? Has anybody ever been as good to you?"

"Never any one, Uncle Peter--and I think as you do, and so does Ruth and
Mr. MacFarlane, but--" The boy hesitated and looked away.

"But what?" queried Peter.

"Well--there's Aunt Felicia. You know how particular she is; and she
doesn't know how splendid Mr. Cohen has been, and if he came to the
wedding she might not like it."

"But Felicia is not going to be married, my boy," remarked Peter, with a
dry smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

Jack laughed. "Yes--but it's her house."

"Yes--and your wedding. Now go down and ask Mr. Cohen yourself.
You'll send him a card, of course, but do more than that. Call on him
personally and tell you want him to come, and why--and that I want him,
too. That will please him still more. The poor fellow lives a great deal
alone. Whether he will come or not, I don't know--but ask him. You owe
it to yourself as much as you do to him."

"And you don't think Aunt Felicia will--"

"Hang Felicia! You do what you think is right; it does not matter what