The next day after a bad night, she was listlessly turning over the pages
of a production report, when Mrs. Kelly came in glowing with enthusiasm,
holding in her hand a book from the rest room library.

"Miss Spencer," she said, "it's in this book that over on the other side
the women in the factories had orchestras. I wonder if we couldn't have
an orchestra now!"

Mary's listlessness vanished.

"I've talked it over with a lot of the women," continued Mrs. Kelly, "and
they think it's great. I've come to quite a few that play different
instruments. I only wish I knew my notes, so I could play something,
too."

Mary thought that over. It didn't seem right to her that the originator
of the idea couldn't take part in it.

"Couldn't you play the drum?" she suddenly asked.

"Why, so I could!" beamed Mrs. Kelly in rare delight. "Do you mind then
if I start a subscription for the instruments?"

"No; I'll do that, if you'll promise to play the drum."

"It's a promise," agreed Mrs. Kelly, and when she reached the hall
outside and saw the size of Mary's subscription she joyfully smote an
imaginary sheepskin, "Boom.... Boom.... Boom-boom-boom...!"

That is the week that Wally was married--with a ceremony that Helen had
determined should be the social event of the year.

She was busy with her plans for weeks, making frequent trips to New York
and Boston in the building up of her trousseau, arranging the details of
the breakfast, making preparations for the decorations at the church and
at the house on the hill, preparing and revising her list of those to be
invited, ordering the cake and the boxes, attending to the engraving,
choosing the music, keeping in touch with the bridesmaids and their
dresses.

"Why, she's as busy as I am," thought Mary one day, in growing surprise
at Helen's knowledge and ability; and dimly she began to see that in
herself and Helen were embodied two opposite ideas of feminine activity.

"Of course she believes her way is the best," continued Mary
thoughtfully, "just the same as I believe mine is. But I can't help
thinking that it's best to be doing something useful, something that
really makes a difference in the world--so that at the end of every week
we can say to ourselves, 'Well, I did this' or 'I did that'--'I haven't
lived this week for nothing....'"

Mary started dreaming then, and the next day when she accompanied Helen
up the aisle of St. Thomas's as maid of honour, her eyes went dr