As Mary followed Constance, Porter tucked her hand under his arm.

"Oh, Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
Your eyes they are so bright,
That the stars grow pale, as they tell the tale
To the other stars at night,"

he improvised under his breath. "Oh, Mary Ballard, do you know that I am
holding on to myself with all my might to keep from shouting to the
crowd, 'Mary isn't going away. Mary isn't going away.'"

"Silly----"

"You say that, but you don't mean it. Mary, you can't be hard-hearted on
such a night as this. Say that I may stay for five minutes--ten--after
the others have gone----"

They were out on the porch now, and he had folded about her the wrap
which she had brought down with her. "Of course you may stay," she said,
"but much good may it do you. Aunt Frances is staying and General
Dick--there's to be a family conclave in the Sanctum--but if you want to
listen you may."

And how the rose-leaves began to flutter! Susan Jenks had handed out the
bags, and secretly, and with much elation had leaned over the rail as
Constance passed down the steps, and had emptied her own little offering
of rice in the middle of the bride's blue hat!

It was Barry, aided and abetted by Leila, who brought out the old
slippers. There were Constance's dancing slippers, high-heeled and of
delicate hues, Mary's more individual low-heeled ones, Barry's outworn
pumps, decorated hurriedly by Leila for the occasion with lovers' knots
of tissue paper.

And it was just as the bride waved "Good-bye" from Gordon's limousine
that a new slipper followed the old ones, for Leila, carried away by the
excitement, and having at the moment no other missile at hand, reached
down, and plucking off one of her own pink sandals, hurled it with all
her might at the moving car. It landed on top, and Leila, with a gasp,
realized that it was gone forever.

"It serves you right." Looking up, she met Barry's laughing eyes.

She sank down on the step. "And they were a new pair!"

"Lucky that it's your birthday next week," he said. "Do you want pink
ones?'"

"_Barry!_"

Her delight was overwhelming. "Heavens, child," he condoned her, "don't
look as if I were the grand Mogul. Do you know I sometimes think you are
eight instead of eighteen? And now, if you'll take my arm, you can
hippity-hop into the house. And I hope that you'll remember this, that
if I give you pink slippers you are not to throw them away."

In the hall the