e; they would wed, and in
later years, while being ground in the mills of a dollarless experience,
they might justify the wisdom of her objection. In this gracious fashion
did Mrs. Hanway-Harley sanction the union of her only daughter Dorothy
with Mr. Richard Storms; after which she folded her matronly hands in
resignation, bearing meanwhile the manner of one who will face the worst
bravely and hopes that others are prepared to do the same.

Dorothy was quite affected, and hung round the neck of Mrs.
Hanway-Harley, shedding copious tears. Richard, who felt decidedly
foolish and could not shake off the impression that Mrs. Hanway-Harley
was somehow the victim of his happiness,--such was the serious effect of
that lady's acting,--confessed himself delighted when the interview was
over. When Dorothy and he were by themselves, Richard drew a deep
breath, and confided to Dorothy that Mrs. Hanway-Harley was a load off
his mind, whatever that should mean.

The formalities above recorded having been disposed of, Dorothy, nobly
abetted by Bess and extravagantly encouraged by Mr. Harley, plunged into
the business of her trousseau with the utmost fury. She became the
center of a bevy of dressmakers and milliners, and these artists got
vastly in the way of Richard when he called. Richard, being excluded,
put in hours in the harmless society of Mr. Fopling, who looked upon
Richard, now his wedding day was fixed, in fearful admiration, and said
that some day he supposed he must come to it himself. Mr. Fopling spoke
of marriage as though it were a desperate creature of citadels and mines
and scaling ladders and smoke-filled breaches, to face which would call
for the soul of a paladin.

As Dorothy's gown-buying and hat-trimming expanded into a riot of
ribbons and flounces and all decorative things, Mrs. Hanway-Harley,
attracted by a bustle dear to the feminine heart, was drawn more and
more from out her shell of martyrdom until finally she stood in the
fore-front of the melee, giving directions. She never omitted, however,
to maintain a melancholy, and comported herself at all times as should a
mother who only bows to the dread inevitable and but dresses her child
for the sacrifice.

Storri about this time was excessively and secretly the busy man. He
went often to New York, and held conferences with Steamboat Dan. The
latter, at Storri's suggestion, began picking up his people; all were
criminal, all aquatic, and two were capable,