obbed.

"Why, Mrs. Milo!" exclaimed Farvel, not understanding. "What do you
mean?--take her away?"

"I mean marry her!--Oh, she's my main hold on life!"

He laughed. "My dear, dear lady, I haven't the least intention in the
world of asking your daughter to marry me."

"No?" She stopped her weeping.

"None whatever. How can I marry--while Laura is alive?"

"And--and"--doubtfully--"you don't even--love her?"

"Will it make your mind entirely easy if I tell you that I--I care for
someone else?" He blushed like a boy.

"Oh, Alan Farvel, I'm so glad! So glad!" Her gratitude was
spontaneous. "And I wish you could marry! You deserve the very best
kind of a wife!"

"You flatter me."

"Not at all! You're a good man. You'd make some girl very happy.
I've always said, 'What a pity Mr. Farvel isn't a married man'--not
knowing, of course, that you'd ever been one.--Could I trouble you to
hand me that bouquet?"

"Certainly." Farvel picked up the bride's bouquet from where she had
thrown it and gave it to her.

"Thank you. A moment ago, I found the perfume of it quite
overpowering. But the blossoms are lovely, aren't they?--So you do
care for someone? And"--she smiled in her best playfully teasing
manner--"is the 'someone' a secret?"

"Well,----"

"Ah, you don't want to tell me! I'm an old lady, Mr. Farvel; I know
how to keep a secret."

"Oh, I'm going to tell you. Though you're going to think very badly of
me."

"Badly? For being in love?--You will have to wait."

"For being in love with a certain young lady."

"Ho-ho! That's very unlikely. Now, who is it? I'm all eagerness!"
She smiled at him archly.

He waited a moment; then, "I love Hattie Balcome."

"_Hattie?_" She found it impossible of comprehension.

"Hattie."

"Well,--that is--news."

He bowed, a little surprised. He had expected anger and vituperation.

"Of course, my son---- But as that can't be. And Sue--does Sue know?"

"I was just about to tell her."

She turned, calling: "Susan! Susan! _Su_san!"

There was a rustle at the door--a smothered laugh. Sue appeared. "Who
calls the Queen of Lower Egypt?" she hailed airily, striking an
attitude. She had changed her dress. This was the "other one" given
her by Balcome--a confection all silver and chiffon. And this was Sue
at her youngest.

"Oh, my dear," cried her mother, "it's lovely!"

Startled by the unexpected admiration, Sue relaxed the pictorial
attit