earth now."

As the wedding day approached, Chicken Little became more and more
concerned about Alice's being left at home. She broached the subject to
her mother again but was dismissed with a curt:

"It is impossible, my dear. I gave Alice the opportunity to be present
and she refused. I fear she is getting notions very much above her
position."

The child was not content. She decided to tackle her brother Frank. She
met him at the front gate one evening about three days before the
wedding, and poured out her tale of woe. Frank considered, then patted
her on the head and promised to talk it over with Marian.

The next day Miss Alice Fletcher received an engraved card requesting
the pleasure of her company at the Gates-Morton nuptials. The tears
stood in Alice's eyes as she read it. "How dear of Marian!" she
exclaimed.

Mrs. Morton had felt distinctly displeased at the arrival of the card,
but the sight of the girl's tears disarmed her. Instead of discouraging
Alice from attending the wedding as she at first intended, she turned in
and helped her arrange a dress for the occasion. She did, however, ask
Chicken Little somewhat sternly if she had teased Marian to invite
Alice.

The long parlors of the Gates home were fragrant with evergreen and
hot-house flowers that wedding night when the Morton family arrived.
Chicken Little had seen her brother's trunk start for the station, and
had admired his silk hat and white gloves as the hack called for him
before the rest of the family were ready. She had promised Katy and
Gertie to bring them a lot of wedding cake and to remember every single
thing to tell them, but especially to find out whether Marian was
dressed properly as a bride should be in "something old and something
new, something borrowed and something blue." Katy had discovered that
this was absolutely necessary to a bride's future happiness.

The something new was very apparent as Marian and Frank walked slowly
down the long room between the lines of friends and relatives to the
little bower where the minister stood waiting for them. Marian was all
in shimmering silken white, but she wore no veil, and her glorious hair
crowned a very sweet and earnest face. She carried a quaint little
bouquet of pale tea roses and heliotrope framed formally in lacy white
paper, and an exquisite lace handkerchief, whose slightly yellowed
border betrayed that it was something old, even to Chicken Little's
childish eyes.

F