ing for something else,--"the real, right thing?" She did
not know.

Her grandmother said that a penniless girl had no right to be so
"particular"--which always maddened Milly.

"I'm afraid you're not serious enough, my dear," Mrs. Gilbert remarked
in gentle reproof. She had always felt that was a flaw in Milly's
character,--a lack of deep interest in the missionary side of life.

"But men don't like serious women," Milly said flippantly, dangling her
slipper on the end of her toes.

"I think the best ones do," Mrs. Gilbert retorted severely. "You were
making fun of Mr. Parker at supper to-night, and I'm afraid he
understood."

"I know," Milly admitted penitently. "But he has such a funny voice."
She imitated amusingly the shrill falsetto of the said Clarence Parker.
"And he's so solemn about everything he says."

Mrs. Gilbert laughed in spite of her stern mood, then controlled
herself.

"But, Milly, Clarence Parker's very nice. He's related to the best
people where he comes from, and he is doing remarkably well in his
business, Roy says."

"What is it?" Milly demanded more practically.

"Stocks and bonds, I think,--banking, you know."

"Oh," said Milly, somewhat impressed.

"What is Clarence Parker's business, Roy?" Mrs. Gilbert appealed to her
husband, who at that moment happened to enter the room.

"He represents several large estates in the East--invests the money,"
Gilbert replied, and turning to Milly with a smile asked:--

"Going out for him, Milly? He's all right, solid as a rock."

"Lighthouse," Milly corrected sulkily.

"And he's got plenty of his own money--has sense about investments."

"I haven't any to make!"

"Oh, come--you've got one...."

Nevertheless, when the two friends said their good-bys, kissing each
other affectionately on the cheek and saying, "Will you go with me to
the Drummonds Tuesday?" and "How about the meeting for the Old Man's
Mission?" Milly added, "Your financial rock asked if he might call. I
told him he could."

Milly squeaked the words in imitation of Mr. Parker's thin voice. They
both laughed.

But Milly trotted home around the corner to the little house in Acacia
Street in anything but a gay mood. The angular, white face of Mr.
Clarence Albert Parker was far from fulfilling the idea she had visioned
to herself in her Sunday morning dream. She knew well enough why Nettie
Gilbert had arranged this particular Sunday supper with the intimacy of
only four gue