ur--guests."

"Oh, of course, I knew I couldn't--really," sighed Marie, as she turned
to go up-stairs, all the light and joy gone from her face.

Billy, once assured that Marie was out of hearing, ran to the telephone.

Bertram answered.

"Bertram, tell Cyril I want to speak to him, please."

"All right, dear, but go easy. Better strike up your tuning fork to find
his pitch to-day. You'll discover it's a high one, all right."

A moment later Cyril's tersely nervous "Good morning, Billy," came
across the line.

Billy drew in her breath and cast a hurriedly apprehensive glance over
her shoulder to make sure Marie was not near.

"Cyril," she called in a low voice, "if you care a shred for Marie, for
heaven's sake call her up and tell her that you dote on pink roses, and
pink ribbons, and pink breakfasts--and pink wedding cake!"

"But I don't."

"Oh, yes, you do--to-day! You would--if you could see Marie now."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, only she overheard part of Bertram's nonsensical talk with
Kate a little while ago, and she's ready to cast the last ravelling
of white satin and conventionality behind her, and go with you to the
justice of the peace."

"Sensible girl!"

"Yes, but she can't, you know, with fifty guests coming to the wedding,
and twice as many more to the reception. Honestly, Cyril, she's
broken-hearted. You must do something. She's--coming!" And the receiver
clicked sharply into place.

Five minutes later Marie was called to the telephone. Dejectedly,
wistful-eyed, she went. Just what were the words that hummed across the
wire into the pink little ear of the bride-to-be, Billy never knew;
but a Marie that was anything but wistful-eyed and dejected left the
telephone a little later, and was heard very soon in the room above
trilling merry snatches of a little song. Contentedly, then, Billy went
back to her roses.

It was a pretty wedding, a very pretty wedding. Every one said that. The
pink and green of the decorations, the soft lights (Kate had had her way
about darkening the rooms), the pretty frocks and smiling faces of the
guests all helped. Then there were the dainty flower girl, little Kate,
the charming maid of honor, Billy, the stalwart, handsome best man,
Bertram, to say nothing of the delicately beautiful bride, who looked
like some fairy visitor from another world in the floating shimmer of
her gossamer silk and tulle. There was, too, not quite unnoticed, the
bridegroom;