too. Then she said:

``Dearie, I don't believe Cyril feels or acts
half so bad as Bertram and Kate make out, and,
anyhow, if he did, it's too late now to--to send
the wedding cake to the hospital, or make any
other of the little changes you suggest.'' Billy's
lips puckered into a half-smile, but her eyes were
grave. ``Besides, there are your music pupils
trimming the living-room this minute with evergreen,
there's little Kate making her flower-girl
wreath, and Mrs. Hartwell stacking cake boxes
in the hall, to say nothing of Rosa gloating over
the best china in the dining-room, and Aunt
Hannah putting purple bows into the new lace
cap she's counting on wearing. Only think how
disappointed they'd all be if I should say: `Never
mind--stop that. Marie's just going to have a
minister. No fuss, no feathers!' Why, dearie,
even the roses are hanging their heads for grief,''
she went on mistily, lifting with gentle fingers
one of the full-petalled pink beauties near her.
``Besides, there's your--guests.''

``Oh, of course, I knew I couldn't--really,''
sighed Marie, as she turned to go up-stairs, all
the light and joy gone from her face.

Billy, once assured that Marie was out of
hearing, ran to the telephone.