ey
talked--chiefly Milly--on a variety of colorless topics. It appeared
that Mr. Parker had positive views only on financial matters. For all
the rest,--art, literature, religion, and life,--he began with a
cautious,--"Well, now, I don't know," and never got much farther.
However, Milly wisely reflected, one didn't marry for the sake of
exciting conversation.

The affair progressed quite smoothly; by the middle of winter Milly's
friends smiled when they spoke of "Milly's young man" and were ready
with their felicitations. On the whole they thought that Milly had "done
quite well...."

It happened naturally, in the course of an expedition which the two made
to the scene of the great new Exposition. They drove out in a smart
carriage with a pair of lively horses which Mr. Parker managed very
well, but which took all his attention. They first visited the
tumultuous fair grounds, where an army of workmen were making desperate
efforts to get the impromptu city in some shape for visitors. They
talked of the beauty of the buildings, the grandeur of the whole design,
the greatness of Chicago. Then they drove to a vast new hotel in which
Mr. Parker had taken a conservative interest, and they still talked of
the marvellous growth of the city, its Ultimate Destiny,--terms which
had a lugubrious sound in the New Englander's piping voice. As they
turned northwards around the great oval of Washington Park, the sun was
sinking into a golden haze of dust and smoke. The horses dropped to a
peaceful walk, and Milly knew that it was coming and braced herself for
it. It came, slowly.

First, by way of preliminary flourish, Mr. Parker declared all over
again his faith in the future of the city. He had come to stay, he
repeated with emphasis; had thrown in his fate with that of Chicago.

"I'm going to stay," he trilled, "and grow up with the city." (At this
point Milly almost upset the boat by laughing: the idea of the little
man's growing up with Chicago seemed funny.)

Having struck the personal note, the young man spoke of his own
"prospects," and outlined the dignified position he intended to occupy
in the forefront of the elect. This implied, of course, an establishment
and a suitable wife. Milly made the proper responses in the pauses. At
last the fateful words reached her ear, "Will you marry me, Miss Ridge?"
As Milly mimicked later his slow, solemn utterance, it sounded more
like, "Will you bury me, Miss Ridge?"

And Milly, w