ewhat vaguely.

"For the land's sake!" exclaimed Aunt Nettie. "What ever put such a
thing into her head? She never saw a mountain in her life!" Grown-ups
have a disconcerting way of speaking of children, even when present, in
the third person. But Aunt Nettie finally turned to Missy with a direct
(and dreaded): "What did they look like, Missy?"

"Oh--mountains," returned Missy, still vague.

At a sign from mother, the others did not press her further. When she
had finished her breakfast, Missy approached her mother, and the latter,
reading the question in her eyes, asked:

"Well, what is it, Missy?"

"I feel--like pink to-day," faltered Missy, half-embarrassed.

But her mother did not ask for explanation. She only pondered a moment.

"You know," reminded the supplicant, "I have to try on the Pink Dress
this morning."

"Very well, then," granted mother. "But only the second-best ones."

Missy's face brightened and she made for the door.

Before she got altogether out of earshot, Aunt Nettie began: "I
don't know that it's wise to humour her in her notions. 'Feel like
pink!'--what in the world does she mean by that?"

Missy was glad the question had not been put to her; for, to have saved
her life, she couldn't have answered it intelligibly. She was out of
hearing too soon to catch her mother's answer:

"She's just worked up over the wedding, and being a flower-girl and
all."

"Well, I don't believe," stated Aunt Nettie with the assurance that
spinsters are wont to show in discussing such matters, "that it's good
for children to let them work themselves up that way. She'll be as much
upset as the bridegroom if Helen does back out."

"Oh, I don't think old Mrs. Greenleaf would ever let her break it off,
now" said Mrs. Merriam, stooping to pick up the papers which her husband
had left strewn over the floor.

"She's hard as rocks," agreed Aunt Nettie.

"Though," Mrs. Merriam went on, "when it's a question of her daughter's
happiness--"

"A little unhappiness would serve Helen Green leaf right," commented
the other tartly. "She's spoiled to death and a flirt. I think it was a
lucky day for young Doc Alison when she jilted him."

"She's just young and vain," championed Mrs. Merriam, carefully folding
the papers and laying them in the rack. "Any pretty girl in Helen's
position couldn't help being spoiled. And you must admit nothing's ever
turned her head--Europe, or her visits to Cleveland, or anything."