To Mrs. Morris and the General the sight, from the old elm-tree seat,
was even fairer than to the youthful group whose forms stood out against
the sky, the floral colors of the girls' draperies heightened by the
western light. For a while the two sitters gave the perfect scene the
tribute of a perfect silence, and then the General asked, as he
cautiously straightened his impaired frame, "Has not Isabel been making
some--eh--news for herself--and us?"

The lady's lips parted for their peculiar laugh of embarrassment, but
the questioner's smile was so serious that she forced her sweetest
gravity. "Why, General, according to our Southern ways," she
said,--every word mellowed by her Southern way of saying it,--"that's
for Isabel to tell you."

"Then why does she not do it, Mrs. Morris?" asked the veteran, who had
been district attorney himself once upon a time, and was clever with
witnesses.

"Why, really, General, Isabel hasn't had a cha--Oh! ho, ho! I oughtn't
to have said that!" Mrs. Morris had a killing dimple, but never used it.

"I suppose--of course"--said the General, "she will say
it's--eh--Arthur?"

"Now you're making me tell," she laughed, "and I mustn't! General,
Godfrey seems to be going."

In fact, Godfrey was shaking hands with Ruth and Leonard. Now he took
the hands of Arthur and Isabel together, and Mrs. Morris laughed more