sn't think, either. She has her work, and--and her home."
Mrs. Milo was fairly trembling.

"How do you know she doesn't think? It's perfectly natural."

"I know. And please don't bring up the subject in her presence."

"Why, my dear!" chided Mrs. Balcome, amazed at the passion flaming in
the blue eyes.

"And don't tease her about Mr. Farvel." That voice so habitually well
modulated became suddenly shrill.

"Don't you like him?"--soothingly.

"Not well enough to give my daughter to him."

"Well," simpered Mrs. Balcome, all elephantine playfulness, "we mustn't
expect perfection in our son-in-laws. Though Wallace is
wonderful--isn't he, Hattie?"

Hattie's back was turned. "I--I suppose so," she answered, low.

"You suppose so!" Mrs. Balcome was shocked. "I must say, Hattie,
you're taking this whole thing very calmly--very. And right in front
of the boy's mother!"

"Sue is perfectly contented,"--it was Mrs. Milo once more--"perfectly
happy. And besides, she's a little older than Mr. Farvel." This with
a note of satisfaction.

Mrs. Balcome stroked the dog. "What's a year or two," she urged.

"Not in a man's life. But in a woman's, a year is like five--at Sue's
time of life."

"Those make the happiest kind of marriages," persisted Mrs. Balcome;
"--the very happiest."

Again Mrs. Milo's voice rose stridently. "Please drop the subject,"
she begged.

Mrs. Balcome struggled up. "Oh, very well. But you know, my dear,
that a woman finds her real happiness in marriage. Because after all
is said and done, marriage----"

"Mr. John Balcome," announced Dora, appearing from the vestibule.

As if knocked breathless by a blow, Mrs. Balcome cut short her
sentence, went rigid, and clutched the loose coat of the poodle so
tightly that four short legs stood out stiff, and two small eyes became
mere slits.

Mrs. Milo met the emergency. "Oh, yes, Dora," she said sweetly; and
flashed her guest a look of warning.

"Till rehearsal," went on Dora, in a mournful sing-song, "Mr. Balcome
prefers to remain on the sidewalk."

Mrs. Milo pretended not to understand. "Oh, we don't mind his cigar,"
she protested. "Ask him in." And as the girl trailed out, "I do hope
your husband won't say anything to that child. She takes the
Scriptures so--so literally."

Hattie crossed to her mother. "Shan't I carry Babette upstairs?" she
asked.

"No!" Mrs. Balcome jerked rudely away.

"But she annoys father."

"Why