white's a sheet--for fear he'll disappoint them, you know. He has said
his piece over twice to me, to-day, he's so scared lest he'll forget.
I've got it in my pocket, and I'm going behind when it's his turn,
to prompt him. Did you see me winking at him? it sort of cheers him up."

He was almost as keen over the floral procession as the
Fitzmaurices themselves. The Lossing garden had been stripped to
the last bud, and levies made on the asparagus-bed, into the bargain,
and Mrs. Lossing and Alma and Mrs. Carriswood and Derry and
Susy Lossing had made bouquets and baskets and wreaths, and Harry
had distributed them among friends in different parts of the house.
I say Harry, but, complimented by Mrs. Carriswood, he admitted
ingenuously that it was Tommy's idea.

"Tommy thought they would make more show that way," says Harry, "and they
are all on the middle aisle, so his father and mother can see them;
Tim O'Halloran has got one for him, too, and Mrs. Macillarney,
and she's got some splendid pinies. Picked every last one.
They'll make a show!"

But Harry knew nothing of the most magnificent of his friend's trophies
until it undulated gloriously down the aisle, above the heads of two men,
white satin ribbons flying, tinfoil shining--an enormous horseshoe
of roses and mignonette!

The parents were both on their feet to crane their necks after it,
as it passed them amid the plaudits.

"Oh, it was YOU, Cousin Margaret; I know it was you," cried Harry.