"Me too," says I. "Some girl, eh?"

Payne nods hearty, and we swaps a final grip.

Well, it was great! My one miscue was not wearin' a wig.




CHAPTER XIV

CUTTING IN ON THE BLISS

We thought it was all over too. That's the way it is in plays and
books, where they don't gen'rally take 'em beyond the final clinch,
leavin' you to fill in the bliss _ad lib_. But here we'd seen 'em
clear through the let-no-man-put-asunder stage, even watched 'em dodge
the rice and confetti in their dash to the limousine.

"Thank goodness that's through with!" remarks Mother, without makin'
any bones of it.

Course, her reg'lar cue was to fall on Father's neck and weep; but,
then, I expect Mrs. Cheyne Ballard's one of the kind you can't write
any form sheet for. She's a lively, bunchy little party, all jump and
go and jingle, who looks like she might have been married herself only
day before yesterday.

"I hope Robbie knows where she put those trunk checks," says Father, at
the same time sighin' sort of relieved.