thought anything but that you were going to be
his. Men never do--till the wedding day. Then
they never think of anything but a place to run,''
she finished laughingly, as she began to arrange
on a stand the quantity of little white boxes
waiting for her.

``But if he'd told me--in time, I wouldn't have
had a thing--but the minister,'' faltered Marie.

``And when you think so much of a pretty
wedding, too? Nonsense! It isn't good for a
man, to give up to his whims like that!''

Marie's cheeks grew a deeper pink. Her
nostrils dilated a little.

``It wouldn't be a `whim,' Mrs. Hartwell, and
I should be _glad_ to give up,'' she said with decision.

Mrs. Hartwell laughed again, her amused eyes
on Marie's face.

``Dear me, child! don't you know that if men
had their way, they'd--well, if men married
men there'd never be such a thing in the world
as a shower bouquet or a piece of wedding cake!''

There was no reply. A little precipitately
Marie turned and hurried away. A moment