ven a party?"

"What the--what on earth should we have a party for?"

"For fun, of course. Daniel and Zebedee and us." She leaned towards him.
"And George, John, just to show that all's forgiven!" To see if she had
dared too much, she cast a glance at Mildred Caniper, but that lady sat
in the stillness of determined indifference.

"Not one of you!" John said. "It's our wedding, and we're going to do
what we like with it."

"But when you're going to be happy--as I suppose you think you are--you
ought to let other people join in. Here's a chance of a little fun--"

"There's nothing funny about being married," Helen said in her deep
tones.

"Depends who--whom--you're marrying, doesn't it?" Miriam asked, and
looking at Mildred Caniper once more, she found that she need not be
afraid, for though the expression was the same, its effect was
different. Notya looked as though she could not rouse her energies to
active disapproval; as though she would never say her rare, amusing
things again, and Miriam was reminded of the turnip lanterns they had
made in their youth--hollowness and flickering light within.

The succeeding days encouraged that reminder, for something had gone
from Mildred Caniper and left her stubbornly frail in mind and body.
Rupert believed that hope had died in her but the Canipers did not speak
of the change which was plain to all of them. She was a presence of
flesh and blood, and she would always be a presence, for she had that
power, but she approached Mr. Pinderwell in their thoughts, and they
began to use towards her the kind of tenderness they felt for him.
Sometimes she became aware of it and let out an irony with a sharpness
which sent Helen about the house more gaily and persuaded her that Notya
would be better when summer came, for surely no one could resist the
sun.

John's soft heart forgave his stepmother's coldness towards his marriage
and his bride, and prompted him to a generous suggestion. He made it
shyly and earnestly one night in the drawing-room where Mildred Caniper
sat under the picture of Mr. Pinderwell's lady.

"Notya," he began, "we want you to come to our wedding, too. Just you
and Rupert and Daniel. Will you?"

She looked faintly amused, yet, the next moment, he had a fear that she
was going to cry. "Thank you, John."

"We both want you," he said awkwardly, and went nearer.

"I'm glad you have asked me, but I won't come. I'm afraid I should only
spoil it. I do spoil