re we get started."

"Now remembah," warned Lloyd, as Rob slipped his box into his pocket and
began looking around for his hat, "we have all promised to tell our
dreams to each othah in the mawning. We'll wait for you, so come ovah
early. Come to breakfast."

"Thanks. I'll be on hand all right. I'll probably have to wake the rest
of you."

"Don't you do it!" exclaimed Phil. "I'll warn you now, if you're waking,
_don't_ call me early, mother, dear. If you do, to-morrow won't be the
happiest day of all _your_ glad New Year. I'll promise you that. How
about you, Bradford?"

"Oh, I'm thinking of sitting up all night," he answered, laughing, "to
escape having any dreams. Miss Mary assures me they will come true, and
one might have a nightmare after such a spread as that wedding-supper. I
can hardly afford to take such risks."

A moment after, Rob's whistle sounded cheerfully down the avenue and
Alec was going around the house, putting out the down-stairs lights.
Late as it was, when they reached their room, Joyce stopped to smooth
every wrinkle out of her bridesmaid dress, and spread it out carefully
in the tray of her trunk.

"It is so beautiful," she said, as she plumped the sleeves into shape
with tissue-paper. "As long as an accident had to happen to one of us it
was lucky that it was Lloyd's dress that was torn. She has so many she
wouldn't wear it often anyhow, and this will be my best evening gown all
summer. I expect to get lots of good out of it at the seashore."

"I'm glad it wasn't mine that was torn," responded Mary, following
Joyce's example and folding hers away also, with many loving pats.
"Probably there'll be a good many times I can wear it here this summer,
but there'll never be a chance on the desert, and I shall have outgrown
it by next summer, so when I go home I'm going to lay it away in
rose-leaves with these darling little satin slippers, because I've had
the best time of my life in them. In the morning Betty and I are going
to pick all the faded roses to pieces and save the petals. Eugenia wants
to fill a rose-jar with part of them. Betty knows how to make that
potpourri that Lloyd's Grandmother Amanthis always kept in the rose-jars
in the drawing-room. She's copied the receipt for me.

"I'm not a bit sleepy," she continued. "I've had such a beautiful time I
could lie awake all the rest of the night thinking about it. Maybe it's
because I drank coffee when I'm not used to it that I'm so wide