t more than a dozen.
Have it at five o'clock." I thought then that I fixed that hour because
everybody would hate it because of the heat and uncertainty as to style of
clothes.

"All right, dear," answered Matthew, carefully, as if handling
conversational eggs.

"Miss Ann, where do you want us to fix the wedding--er--bell and altar?"
Polly ventured to ask timidly a few days later.

"The parlor, of course, Polly. I hate that room, and it is as far from the
barn as possible. Now don't bother me any more about it," I snapped, and
sent her flying to Matthew in consternation. Later I saw them poring over
the last June-bride number of "The Woman's Review," and I surmised the kind
of a wedding I was in for. That day I tried on a combination of tull, lace,
and embroidery at Felicia's that tried my soul as well as my body.

"It's no worse than any other wedding-dress I ever saw; take it off quick,
Madame," I snapped as crossly as I dared at the poor old lady, who had
gowned me from the cradle to the--I was about to say grave.

"Eh, la la, _mais_, you are _tres deficile_--difficult," she murmured
reproachfully.

"Any more so than Bess?" I demanded.

"_Non_, perhaps _non_," she answered, with a French shrug.

With beautiful tact Matthew fussed with his throttle, which I couldn't see
stuck at all, the entire time he was driving me home, and left me with a
careful embrace and also with relief in his face that I hadn't exploded
over him. Owen is not like that to Bess; he just pours gas on her
explosions and fans the resulting flame until it is put out by tears in his
arms.

"Let's never get married at the same time any more, Ann," groaned Bess as
Annette tried to put us both to bed that night before we fell dead on her
hands.

"Don't speak to me!" was my answer as nearly as I can remember.

"I'll be glad to get Bess away from your influence," raged Owen at me the
next day when I very nearly stepped on one of the little chickens that he
was having run in and out from the conservatory.

"You'll want to bring her back in a week if both your tempers don't
improve," was my cutting reply as this time I lifted another of his small
pets with the toe of my slipper and literally flung it across the room.

"Great guns!" exploded Owen, as he retreated into the conservatory and
shut the door.

The next night was the sixth of June and the night of my wedding eve. All
Bess's bridesmaids and groomsmen were dining with her to rehears