ue she was not at her best.

When Marcia was ready she stood back from the little looking-glass, with a
frightened, half-childish gaze about the room.

Now that the last minute was come, there was no one to understand Marcia's
feelings nor help her. Even the girls were merely standing there waiting
to say the last formal farewell that they might be free to burst into an
astonished chatter of exclamations over Kate's romantic disappearance.
They were Kate's friends, not Marcia's, and they were bidding Kate's
clothes good-bye for want of the original bride. Marcia's friends were too
young and too shy to do more than stand back in awe and gaze at their mate
so suddenly promoted to a life which but yesterday had seemed years away
for any of them.

[Illustration: Copyright by C. Klackner
THE STEPMOTHER'S ARMS WERE AROUND HER.]

Copyright by C. Klackner
THE STEPMOTHER'S ARMS WERE AROUND HER.

So Marcia walked alone down the hall--yet, no, not all the way alone. A
little wrinkled hand was laid upon her gloved one, and a little old lady,
her true friend, the minister's wife, walked down the stairs with the
bride arm in arm. Marcia's heart fluttered back to warmth again and was
glad for her friend, yet all she had said was: "My dear!" but there was
that in her touch and the tone of her gentle voice that comforted Marcia.

She stood at the edge of the steps, with her white hair shining in the
morning, her kind-faced husband just behind her during all the farewell,
and Marcia felt happier because of her motherly presence.

The guests were all out on the piazza in the gorgeousness of the summer
morning. David stood on the flagging below the step beside the open coach
door, a carriage lap-robe over his arm and his hat on, ready. He was
talking with the Squire. Every one was looking at them, and they were
entirely conscious of the fact. They laughed and talked with studied
pleasantness, though there seemed to be an undertone of sadness that the
most obtuse guest could not fail to detect.

Harriet, as a small flower-girl, stood upon the broad low step ready to
fling posies before the bride as she stepped into the coach.

The little boys, to whom a wedding merely meant a delightful increase of
opportunities, stood behind a pillar munching cake, more of which
protruded from their bulging pockets.

Marcia, with a lump in her throat that threatened tea