out, 'Look here,
Ma'y Lou Duval, ain't you too old to be playin' with dolls?'"

Mary had often heard this, but she laughed, and Mr. Venable laughed,
too, although he cut short an indication of further reminiscence on
Mamma's part by entering briskly upon the subject of dinner. Would Mrs.
Honeywell and Miss Bannister dine with him, in the piazza, dining-room,
that wasn't too near the music, and was always cool, and then afterward
he'd have the car brought about--? Mary's first smiling shake of the
head subsided before these tempting details. It did sound so cool and
restful and attractive! And after all, why shouldn't one dine with the
big, responsible person who was one of New York's biggest construction
engineers, with whom one's mother was on such friendly terms?

That was the first of many delightful times. George Venable fell in
love with Mary and grew serious for the first time in his life. And
Mary fell in love with George, and grew frivolous for the first time in
hers. And in the breathless joy that attended their discovery of each
other, they rather forgot Mamma.

"Stealing my beau!" said the little lady, accusatively, one night, when
mother and daughter were dressing. Mary turned an uncomfortable scarlet.

"Oh, don't be such a little goosie!" Mrs. Honeywell said, with a great
hug. And she artlessly added, "My goodness, Mary, I've got all the
beaux I want! I'm only too tickled to have you have one at last!"

By the time the engagement, with proper formality, was announced,
George's attitude toward his prospective mother-in-law had shifted
completely. He was no longer Mamma's gallant squire, but had assumed
something of Mary's tolerant, protective manner toward her. Later, when
they were married, this change went still further, and George became
rather scornful of the giddy little butterfly, casually critical of her
in conversations with Mary.

Mrs. Honeywell enjoyed the wedding as if she had been the bride's
younger sister now allowed a first peep at real romance.

"But I'm going to give you one piece of advice, dearie," said she, the
night before the ceremony. Mary, wrapped in all the mysterious thoughts
of that unreal time, winced inwardly. This was all so new, so sacred,
so inexpressible to her that she felt Mamma couldn't understand it. Of
course she had been married twice herself, but then she was so
different.

"It's this," said Mrs. Honeywell, cheerfully, after a pause. "There'll
come a time when