t, mother, it's absurd."

Mrs. Milo strolled to a chair and seated herself with elaborate care.
"Well, anyway," she argued, "he carries a girl's picture in his pocket."

In the pause that followed, a telephone began to ring persistently from
the direction of the library. But Sue seemed not to hear it. "A
picture," she said slowly. And as her mother assented, smiling,
"And--and what did he say when he showed it to you?"

Mrs. Milo started. "Well,--er--the fact is," she admitted, "he didn't
exactly show it to me."

"Oh." It was scarcely more than a breath.

Mrs. Milo tossed her head. "No," she added tartly, a trifle ruffled by
what the low-spoken exclamation so plainly implied. "If you must know,
it fell out of his bureau drawer."

Mrs. Balcome threw out a plump arm across the bending back of the sofa
and touched a sleeve of the satin gown covertly. "Hm!" she coughed,
with meaning.

But Hattie only moved aside irritably. Of a sudden, she was strangely
pale.

Dora entered. "Miss Susan, a telephone summons," she announced.

"Yes--yes,"--absent-mindedly.

When she was gone, Mrs. Milo rose and hastened to Dora, who seemed on
guard as she waited, leaned against the library door. "Who is
telephoning?" she asked.

Dora's eyes narrowed--to hide their smile. "Oh, Mrs. Milo," she
answered, intoning gravely, "the fourth verse, of the thirteenth
chapter--or is it the ninth?--of Isaiah." With face raised, as if she
were still cudgeling her brain, she crossed toward the vestibule.

"Isaiah--Isaiah," murmured Mrs. Milo. Then, as Dora seemed about to
escape, "Dora!--I wouldn't speak in parables, my child, when there are
others present." She smiled kindly.

"It is the soloist telephoning," explained Dora; then, so deliberately
as almost to be impudent, "A _girl_."

Mrs. Milo showed instant relief. "Oh, the soloist! Such a dear girl.
She sang here a year or so ago. Yes,--Miss Crosby."

Dora out, Mrs. Balcome turned a look of wisdom upon her hostess. "I
see," she insinuated, "that we're very much interested in the new
minister."

Like that of a startled deer, up came Mrs. Milo's head. "What do you
mean?" she demanded.

"If he isn't engaged already, prepare for wedding Number Two."

"_Wedding?_"

Mrs. Balcome tipped forward bulkily. "Sue," she nodded.

Mrs. Milo got to her feet. "Sue! What're you talking about? Why, she
never even speaks of marriage."

"Well, maybe she--thinks."

"She doe