it.

Several times a day, after the passing of the trains, Alec came up from
the station with express packages. Most of them were wedding presents,
which the bridesmaids pounced upon and carried away to the green room to
await Eugenia's arrival. Every package was the occasion of much guessing
and pinching and wondering, and the mystery was almost as exciting as
the opening would have been.

The conversation often led into by-paths that were unexplored regions to
the small listener in the background among the window-seat cushions:
husbands and lovers and engagements, all the thrilling topics that a
wedding in the family naturally suggests. Sometimes a whole morning
would go by without her uttering a word, and Mrs. Sherman, who had heard
what a talkative child she was, noticed her silence. Thinking it was
probably dull for her, she reproached herself for not having provided
some especial company for the entertainment of her youngest guest, and
straightway set to work to do so.

Next morning a box of pink slippers was sent out from Louisville on
approval, and the bridesmaids and maid of honor, seated on the floor in
Betty's room, tried to make up their minds which to choose,--the kid or
the satin ones. With each slim right foot shod in a fairy-like covering
of shimmering satin, and each left one in daintiest pink kid, the three
girls found it impossible to determine which was the prettier, and
called upon Mary for her opinion.

All in a flutter of importance, she was surveying the pretty exhibit of
outstretched feet, when Mom Beck appeared at the door with a message
from Mrs. Sherman. There was a guest for Miss Mary in the library. Would
she please go down at once. Her curiosity was almost as great as her
reluctance to leave such an interesting scene. She stood in the middle
of the floor, wringing her hands.

"Oh, if I could only be in two places at once!" she exclaimed. "But
maybe whoever it is won't stay long, and I can get back before you
decide."

Hurrying down the stairs, she went into the library, where Mrs. Sherman
was waiting for her.

"This is one of our little neighbors, Mary," she said, "Girlie
Dinsmore."

A small-featured child of twelve, with pale blue eyes and long, pale
flaxen curls, came forward to meet her. To Mary's horror, she held a
doll in her arms almost as large as herself, and on the table beside her
stood a huge toy trunk.

"I brought all of Evangeline's clothes with me," announced Gir