l
of haberdashery, and walk quietly away to my new home by the light of
it."

As if the bare idea of such an awful proceeding robbed her of all
strength, Miss Yule sat suddenly down in the trunk by which she was
standing. Fortunately it was nearly full, but her appearance was
decidedly ludicrous as she sat with the collar in one uplifted hand, the
hose in the other, and the ball dress laid over her lap like a fainting
lady; while she said, with imploring solemnity, which changed abruptly
from the pathetic to the comic at the end of her speech--

"Sylvia, if I ever cherished a wish in this world of disappointment, it
is that your wedding shall have nothing peculiar about it, because every
friend and relation you've got expects it. Do let me have the comfort of
knowing that every one was surprised and pleased; for if the expression
was elegant (which it isn't, and only suggested by my trials with those
dressmakers), I should say I was on pins and needles till it's all over.
Bless me! and so I am, for here are three on the floor and one in my
shoe." Prue paused to extract the appropriate figure of speech which she
had chosen, and Sylvia said--

"If we have everything else as you wish it, would you mind if we didn't
go the journey?"

"Of course I should. Every one goes a wedding trip, it's part of the
ceremony; and if two carriages and two bridal pairs don't leave here
to-morrow, I shall feel as if all my trouble had been thrown away."

"I'll go, Prue, I'll go; and you shall be satisfied. But I thought we
might go from here in style, and then slip off on some quieter trip. I
am so tired I dread the idea of frolicking for a whole month, as Mark
and Jessie mean to do."

It was Prue's turn to groan now, and she did so dismally. But Sylvia had
never asked a favor in vain, and this was not the moment to refuse to
her anything, so worldly pride yielded to sisterly affection, and Prue
said with resignation, as she fell to work more vigorously than ever,
because she had wasted five good minutes--

"Do as you like, dear, you shall not be crossed on your last day at
home. Ask Geoffrey, and if you are happy I'm satisfied."

Before Sylvia could thank her sister there came a tap and a voice
asking--

"Might I come in?"

"If you can get in," answered Prue, as, reversing her plan in her hurry,
she whisked the collar into a piecebag and the hose into a bandbox.

Moor paused on the threshold in a masculine maze, that one small