u
don't know what you are doing--going right out of your class--out of
your world--"

"But to a good husband, Debbie, and the man I love--and that's first of
all! And I must go to him now--I must not keep him waiting. Bless you,
dearest! I am happy now. Never mind the others. You can tell them after
I'm gone. But I felt that I must speak to YOU before I went. Oh, I am
so glad I did! Goodbye, darling! I must go."

"You must NOT go," said Deb, swallowing her tears and resuming her
imperious air. "Not this way, Rose, as if your family had cast you off.
How can you treat us so, child? But perhaps we deserve it; only you
don't see what you are doing as clearly as we do--"

"Deb, Deb, don't stop me! They are waiting. It is late now!"

The bride-elect, pale with fright, struggled in her sister's strong
hands, which held her fast.

"Where is Mr Breen?" demanded Deb.

"Waiting at his house--waiting for me--"

"I must send for him."

"Oh, Deb, not now, when everything is settled, and they have had all
the expense and trouble--"

"Will you fetch him, Rose, if I let you go? For one minute only. No, I
won't stop it. I can't, of course; but I must go with you, Rose--I
MUST."

"Oh, Debbie, WOULD you? Oh, how I wish I had known before! Yes, I'll
run and bring him. We must drive faster, that's all. Oh, Deb, how happy
this will make us! But--"

"Run away and fetch him--ask him, with my compliments if he will be so
good--and I will get my hat on while you are gone."

How she managed it was a mystery, but by the time the bridegroom
appeared, Deb was in her best walking costume, hatted and veiled, with
a pair of new pale-coloured gloves in her hand.

"Mr Breen," said she, grave and stately, "I am going to ask a favour of
you. Allow me to take my sister to the church and give her away."

Peter was naturally flurried, besides being a trifle overawed. He
mumbled something to the effect that he was sure his family would be
"quite agreeable", and that his sister would give up her place in the
carriage and go by train; and Deb, facing him with the air of a
duchess, thought how thoroughly "shoppy" his manner was. His splendid
new clothes helped to give her that impression. Fine dressing was one
of the Breens' trifling errors of taste (as drapers) which damned them
in her eyes. But what would she have thought if he had not done all
honour to his bride in this respect?

"WE will go by train," said she decisively. "I have already