ng the young
men. How white he looks! Do you suppose he loves her? What on earth can it
all mean? Do you s'pose Kate feels bad? Where is she anyway? Wouldn't she
come down? Well, if 'twas his choosing it serves her right. She's too much
of a flirt for a good man and maybe he found her out. She's probably got
just what she deserves, and _I_ think Marcia'll make a good little wife.
She always was a quiet, grown-up child and Madam Schuyler has trained her
well! But what will Kate do now? Hush! They are coming this way. How do
you suppose we can find out? Go ask Cousin Janet, perhaps they've told
her, or Aunt Polly. Surely she knows.

But Aunt Polly sat with pursed lips of disapproval. She had not been told,
and it was her prerogative to know everything. She always made a point of
being on hand early at all funerals and weddings, especially in the family
circle, and learning the utmost details, which she dispensed at her
discretion to late comers in fine sepulchral whispers.

Now she sat silent, disgraced, unable to explain a thing. It was
unhandsome of Sarah Schuyler, she felt, though no more than she might have
expected of her, she told herself. She had never liked her. Well, wait
until her opportunity came. If they did not wish her to say the truth she
must say something. She could at least tell what she thought. And what
more natural than to let it be known that Sarah Schuyler had always held a
dislike for Marcia, and to suggest that it was likely she was glad to get
her off her hands. Aunt Polly meant to find a trail somewhere, no matter
how many times they threw her off the scent.

Meantime for Marcia the sun seemed to have shined out once more with
something of its old brightness. The terrible deed of self-renunciation
was over, and familiar faces actually were smiling upon her and wishing
her joy. She felt the flutter of her heart in her throat beneath the
string of pearls, and wondered if after all she might hope for a little
happiness of her own. She could climb no more fences nor wade in gurgling
brooks, but might there not be other happy things as good? A little touch
of the pride of life had settled upon her. The relatives were coming with
pleasant words and kisses. The blushes upon her cheeks were growing
deeper. She almost forgot David in the pretty excitement. A few of her
girl friends ventured shyly near, as one might look at a mate suddenly and
unexpectedly translated into eternal bliss. They put out cold