Her mother laughed. "Come along, honey," she said, putting her hand on
her husband's shoulder, "and tell me what to say to her."

"Say she's a harpy, and tell her to go to the--"

"Henry!"

"My dear, like Mr. F.'s aunt, 'I hate a fool.' Oh, I'll tell you what
to say: Say, 'Mr. F.'s aunt will send her a wedding present.' That's
friendly, isn't it?"

"Better not be too literary in public," his wife cautioned him, with a
significant glance at Edith, who was all ears.

When, laughing, they left the table, their daughter scraping her plate,
pondered thus: "I suppose Mr. F. is the Bride's father. I wonder what
present his aunt will give her? I wonder what 'F' stands for--Frost?
Fuller? Father and mother don't want the Bride to come; and mother
thinks the Bride don't want to come. So why should they ask her to come?
And why should she come? I wouldn't," Edith said; "but I hope she will,
for I love her! And oh, I _hope_ she'll bring her harp! I've never seen
a harpy. But people are funny," Edith summed it up; "inviting people and
not wanting 'em; and visiting 'em and not wanting to. It ain't sense,"
said Edith.




CHAPTER IV