ng, this fine morning?" he persisted.

"All-right," stammered Missy.

He laughed, as if actually enjoying her confusion. Missy observed that
his eyes were red-rimmed, and his face a pasty white. She wondered
whether he was sick; but he jauntily waved his stick at her and went on
his way.

Missy, a trifle subdued, continued hers.

But oh, it is a wonderful world! You never know what any moment may
bring you. Adventures fairy-sent surprises, await you at the most
unexpected turns, spring at you from around the first corner.

It was around the very first corner, in truth, that Missy met young Doc
Alison, buzzing leisurely along in his Ford.

"Hello, Missy," he greeted. "Like a lift?"

Missy would. Young Doc jumped out, and, in a deferential manner she
admired very much, assisted her into the little car as though she were
a grown-up and lovely young lady. Young Doc was a nice man. She knew him
well. He had felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, sent her Valentines,
taken her riding, and shown her many other little courtesies for as far
back as she could remember. Then, too, she greatly admired his looks.
He was tall and lean and wiry. His face was given to quick flashes of
smiling; and his eyes could be dreamy or luminous. He resembled, Missy
now decided--and marvelled she hadn't noticed it before--that other
young man, Lochinvar, "so faithful in love and so dauntless in war."

When young Doc politely enquired whether she could steal enough time
from her errand to turn about for a run up "The Boulevard," Missy
acquiesced. She regretted she hadn't worn her shirred mull hat. But
she decided not to worry about that. After all, her appearance, at the
present moment, didn't so much matter. What did matter was the way she
was going to look next Wednesday--and she excitedly began telling young
Doc about her coming magnificence, "It's silk organdie," she said in a
reverent tone, "and has garlands of rosebuds." She went on and told
him of the big leghorn hat to be filled with flowers, of the Pink
Stockings--best of all, silk!--waiting, in tissue-paper, in the high-boy
drawer.

"Oh, I can hardly wait!" she concluded rapturously.

Young Doc, guiding the car around the street-sprinkling wagon, did not
answer. Beyond the wagon, Mr. Hackett, whom the Ford had overtaken, was
swinging along. Missy turned to young Doc with a slight grimace.

"'The poor craven bridegroom said never a word,'" she quoted.

Young Doc permitted hims