"There go my letters," said Katy, as with the last rapid twirl, Rose's
many-sheeted epistle and the "Advice to Brides" flew to right and left.
"There go two of your hair-pins, Clover. Oh, do stop; we shall all be in
pieces."

Clover brought her gyrations to a close by landing her unwilling partner
suddenly on the sofa. Then with a last squeeze and a rapid kiss she began
to pick up the scattered letters.

"Now read the rest," she commanded, "though anything else will sound flat
after Rose's."

"Hear this first," said Elsie, who had taken advantage of the pause to
open her own letter. "It is from Cecy, and she says she is coming to spend
a month with her mother on purpose to be here for Katy's wedding. She
sends heaps of love to you, Katy, and says she only hopes that Mr.
Worthington will prove as perfectly satisfactory in all respects as her
own dear Sylvester."

"My gracious, I should hope he would," put in Clover, who was still in the
wildest spirits. "What a dear old goose Cecy is! I never hankered in the
least for Sylvester Slack, did you, Katy?"

"Certainly not. It would be a most improper proceeding if I had," replied
Katy, with a laugh. "Whom do you think this letter is from, girls? Do
listen to it. It's written by that nice old Mr. Allen Beach, whom we met
in London. Don't you recollect my telling you about him?"

MY DEAR MISS CARR,--Our friends in Harley Street have told me a
piece of news concerning you which came to them lately in a