that
Uncle Bruce would suit her first rate as a stepdaddy that the match was
finally pulled off.

And now Polly, who's barely finished at boardin' school, has announced
that she intends to get married herself. Mommer has begged her weepy not
to take the high dive so young, and pointed out where she made her own
big mistake in that line. But Polly comes back at her by declarin' that
her Billy is a nice boy. There's no denyin' that. Young Mr. Curtis seems
to be as good as they come. He'd missed out on his last year at college,
but he'd spent it in an aviation camp and he was just workin' up quite a
rep. as pilot of a bombin' plane when the closed season on Hun towns was
declared one eleventh of November. Then he'd come back modest to help
his father run the zinc and tinplate trust, or something like that, and
was payin' strict attention to business until he met Polly at a football
game. After that he had only one aim in life, which was leadin' Polly up
the middle aisle with the organ playin' that breath of Eden piece.

Well, what was a fond mommer to do in a case like that? Polly admits
being a young person, but she insists that she knows what she wants. And
one really couldn't find any fault with Billy. She had had Bruce look up
his record and, barrin' a few little 9 a. m. police court dates made for
him by grouchy traffic cops, it was as clean as a new shirt front. True,
he had been born in Brooklyn, but his family had moved to Madison Avenue
before he was old enough to feel the effects.

So at last Mrs. Mackey had given in. Things had gone so far as settlin'
the date for the weddin'. It was to be some whale of an affair, too, for
both the young folks had a lot of friends and on the Curtis side
especially there was a big callin' list to get invitations. Nothing but
a good-sized church would hold 'em all.

Which was where Bruce Mackey, usually a mild sort of party and kind of
retirin', had come forward with the balky behavior.

"What do you think?" says Mrs. Bruce. "He says he won't go near the
church."

"Eh?" demands Mr. Robert, turnin' to him. "What do you mean by that,
Bruce?"

Mr. Mackey shakes his head stubborn. "Think I can stand up there before
a thousand or more people and give Polly away?" says he. "No. I--I
simply can't do it."

"But why not?" insists Mrs. Robert.

"Well, she isn't my daughter," says he, "and it isn't my place to be
there. Dick should do it."

"But don't you see, Bruce," protests M