being a doctor, and that he doesn't have to work. "But a man who
doesn't work hasn't any excuse for living," I heard him tell somebody,
and maybe it's so, though I don't know.

I don't know anything these days. I'm the shape and size of Mary Cary,
but I see and hear so many things I never saw and heard before that I'd
like to borrow a dog to see if he knows whether I am myself or somebody
else. And another thing I'd like to find out is, How do other people
know so much?

Mrs. Philip Creekmore has a cousin whose wife's brother lives in the
same place Uncle Parke does, and Miss Amelia Cokeland wrote out there
and found out all about him. But it doesn't matter whether she truly
knows anything or not. Miss Webb says she is like those fish scientists.
Give her one bone, and she can tell you all the rest. She's had a grand
time telling more things about Uncle Parke than Miss Katherine will ever
learn in this world.

My dress is finished. I'm to be Maiden of Honor. There are no
bridesmaids. Think of it! Me, Mary Cary, once just flesh and blood
mechanical, now a living creature who is to wear a white Swiss dress and
a sash with pink rosebuds on it, and walk up the church aisle with my
arms full of roses. And--magnificent gloriousness! most beautiful of
all!--every girl in this Asylum is to have a white dress and a sash the
color she likes best to wear to the wedding. That's my wedding gift to
the girls. Uncle Parke gave it to me.

Miss Katherine's California brother and his wife have come. I don't like
them. He looks bored to death, and chews the end of his mustache till
you wonder there's any left. As for her, she's the limit. Maybe that's
what's the matter with him.

She seems to be afraid some of us might touch her, and she stares as if
we were figures in a china-shop. No more says good-morning than if we
were.

She wears seven rings on one hand and four on another, and rustles so
when she walks she sounds like a churner out of order. If she isn't a
bulgarian born, she's bought herself into being one, for she oozes
money. It's the only thing you think of when she's around. You can
actually smell it. I think Miss Katherine is sorry they came. She don't
say it, of course, but plenty of things don't have to be said.

Uncle Parke came last night, bringing his best friend and some others.
The best one is Doctor Willwood. He's fine. He and I are going to come
down the aisle together. I reach up to his elbow, and he says he