eally? Sylvia, you are a perfect darling! Mark! Prue! she says
she will!"

Away flew Jessie to proclaim the glad tidings, and Sylvia, with a
curious expression of relief, regret, and resolve, repeated to herself
that decided--

"I will."

Every one took care that Miss Caprice should not have time to change her
mind. The whole house was soon in a bustle, for Prue ruled supreme. Mr.
Yule fled from the din of women's tongues, the bridegrooms were kept on
a very short allowance of bride, and Sylvia and Jessie were almost
invisible, for milliners and mantua-makers swarmed about them till they
felt like animated pin-cushions. The last evening came at length, and
Sylvia was just planning an escape into the garden when Prue, whose
tongue wagged as rapidly as her hands worked, exclaimed--

"How can you stand staring out of window when there is so much to do?
Here are all these trunks to pack, Maria in her bed with every tooth in
a frightful state of inflammation, and that capable Jane What's-her-name
gone off while I was putting a chamomile poultice on her face. If you
are tired sit down and try on all your shoes, for though Mr. Peggit has
your measure, those absurd clerks seem to think it a compliment to send
children's sizes to grown women. I'm sure my rubbers were a perfect
insult."

Sylvia sat down, tugged on one boot and fell into a reverie with the
other in her hand, while Prue clacked on like a wordmill in full
operation.

"How I'm ever to get all these gowns into that trunk passes my
comprehension. There's a tray for each, of course; but a ball dress is
such a fractious thing. I could shake that Antoinette Roche for
disappointing you at the last minute; and what you are to do for a maid,
I don't know. You'll have so much dressing to do you will be quite worn
out; and I want you to look your best on all occasions, for you will
meet everybody. This collar won't wear well; Clara hasn't a particle of
judgment, though her taste is sweet. These hose, now, are a good, firm
article; I chose them myself. Do be sure you get all your things from
the wash. At those great hotels there's a deal of pilfering, and you are
so careless."

Here Sylvia came out of her reverie with a sigh that was almost a groan.

"Don't they fit? I knew they wouldn't!" said Prue, with an air of
triumph.

"The boots suit me, but the hotels do not; and if it was not ungrateful,
after all your trouble, I should like to make a bonfire of this roomfu