It was the night of Mona's wedding. The ballroom of the big hotel where Mona and her father lived was the scene of the ceremony, and this was already filled with guests. A temporary altar had been erected at one end of the long room, and was banked with lilies and white hydrangeas against a background of tall palms. On either side were tall candles in cathedral candlesticks.

To the altar led a temporary aisle, formed by stanchions of old silver candelabra filled with ascension lilies, and joined by garlands of white blossoms.

Promptly on time, the bridal cortÈge appeared. First walked a vested choir singing a processional. Then the bridesmaids, in palest pink tulle frocks, each pair carrying between them a long garland of pink roses, and wearing wreaths of pink roses on their hair.

Patty and Daisy Dow were the first pair, and very lovely they looked as they traversed the flower-hung room. Garlands of pink roses were everywhere, on the walls, from the doorframes and windows, and gracefully drooping from the ceiling. Next came Elise, Maid of Honor, in a gown of slightly deeper pink, and then Mona, her father beside her.

The bride's gown was of point lace with a very long court train of embroidered satin. Her veil, of old lace, was an heirloom from her mother, and was held by a wreath of orange blossoms. Roger's gift of a diamond pendant was her only jewel.

After the ceremony, as the bridal party retraced their steps, the bridesmaids sang softly, "O Perfect Love," and then they took their places for the reception, the orchestra's strains broke forth, and the festivities began. Having no mother or near feminine relative, Mona had asked Nan to receive with her, and very gracefully Nan did the honours.

"A beautiful wedding," everybody said, and then there arrived many more guests who had been asked to the reception only.

The room became crowded and people wandered into the adjoining rooms which were also for the use of the guests.

Patty stood in the line of the bridal party and smiled and chatted with the stream of people who drifted by, murmuring congratulatory phrases. Mona was supremely happy and she looked it. Not only was she married to the man she loved, but the wedding was just such a pageant of beauty and grandeur as she had wished it to be and no smallest item of the preparations had gone wrong. She stood by Roger's side, now and then glancing up into his face with a smile of happiness and contentment.

The bridegroom looked proud and happy. He hadn't cared for so much elaboration of entertainment, but Mona had wanted it, and so he acquiesced in all particulars.

"When will it be all over and we can get away?" he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, not for hours," returned his new wife. "There's the feast, and then the dancing,—I don't want to miss a bit of it! Why, Roger, this is our wedding party."

"Yes, I gathered as much! All right, dearest, stay as long as you like."

"It is a pretty wedding, isn't it, Roger? You like it, don't you?"
Mona looked suddenly troubled.

"Of course I do, darling. I like it better than any wedding I ever attended! I've only seen one thing, though,—that's you. Are there other people here?"

"Oh, a few! Three or four hundred, anyway. But where's Bill
Farnsworth? I haven't seen him yet."

"He came in late. I just caught sight of him a minute ago. Probably he's trying to get through the crowd to us."

Which was just what Farnsworth was doing. He had arrived during the ceremony, and had not yet made his way to the bridal party.

In fact, he was continually stopped in his progress by acquaintances who greeted him and held him in conversation.

But at last he reached the bride.

"My dear Mona," he cried, "don't look so happy! You dazzle me!"

Mona beamed more joyously than ever, and Roger warmly welcomed
Farnsworth.

"Splendid affair," Bill went on. "Looks like Fairyland or some enchanted garden. I was wafted in on the strains of the orchestra, and I can scarcely hold myself down on terra firma. But I mustn't monopolise the prince and princess of this magic realm. I'll try for a few words, later, but now I must make way for the crowd behind me. Oh, how do you do, Patty? How are you? You're looking splendid. And Daisy! Well, it's good to see you again. By the way, Daisy, I saw Lou Standish last week in Arizona. He sent greetings to you."

"Oh, did you, Bill? Did you see Lou? Tell me more about him."

Patty turned aside, her gaiety suddenly gone. What did Bill Farnsworth mean by treating her like that? A blank stare from him would have surprised her no more than those few careless words, flung at her hastily, as if she were the merest acquaintance. She felt as if a bucket of ice water had been splashed on her head and was still trickling down her shoulders.

"Come back, Miss Fairfield," she heard somebody saying gaily, and with a start she realised she had been staring blankly into vacancy so stunned was she by Farnsworth's manner.

It was Sam Blaney who spoke, and as he had taken her hand and still held it, Patty suddenly recovered her poise and spirits.

"Time's up, Mr. Blaney," she laughed. "You have had my hand fully three minutes, and that's the limit. Somebody else may want it."

"Possession is nine points of the law," said Blaney, still retaining her hand.

"But appropriation isn't possession," and Patty gently withdrew her hand from his detaining fingers.

"No, possession must be granted. Perhaps some time——"

"Some time——" Patty assented, smiling, and dismissing Blaney, as more and more people came along.

But at last the reception was over, and the bridal party went to their especial table in the supper room.

Mona, still resplendent in her heavy court train and bridal laces, cut her wedding cake. She had never looked more beautiful. The long reception had tired her a little, but though the animation in her face was not so vivid, there was a lovely radiant light in her eyes, and her smile was gentle and sweet.

"Roger on this side of me," she said, arranging her table, "Dad on this. The rest of you may sit where you like. I've stopped directing this party,—or any other. I've conducted the little affair of this evening to a successful conclusion, and now I resign all generalship and all planning and arranging to my husband. I'm glad to give up all responsibilities, and I'm going to lead a life of leisure while Roger looks after things for me."

"Good little wife!" said Patty. "I foresee happy days and clear sailing under such regulations."

"If you keep it up," laughed Kit Cameron. "You're pretty well tired out now, Mrs. Farrington, but I'm not sure you're going to stand aside always, when matters of importance arise."

"Yes, she will," declared Roger. "You see, I shall rule her with a rod of iron, and she'll be so terrified of me, that she won't dare cross my lightest whim."

They all laughed at this, for Roger had the most easy-going of natures and had never been known to insist upon his own way.

Patty sat between Van Reypen and Kit Cameron, and opposite her, across the table, was Bill Farnsworth, next to Daisy Dow.

His careless, impersonal greeting still rankled in Patty's mind, but, though it both hurt and angered her, she had no intention of showing her feelings. So, she went to the other extreme and was madly gay and merry, laughing and jesting with everybody and enjoying herself to the utmost.

She looked adorable. The pale pink of her bridesmaid costume was most becoming and her wreath of pink roses, which had slipped a little to one side, gave her the effect of a Queen Titania. Her eyes were like two blue stars, and a pink flush showed on her cheeks, while her scarlet lips smiled or pouted with her changing moods.

"Did you ever see such colouring as that girl has!" murmured Daisy Dow to Farnsworth. "I never saw such truly gold hair, or such blue blue eyes, or such a wonderful complexion."

Daisy spoke whole-heartedly and generously, for she loved Patty, and she thought her the prettiest girl she knew.

"She is pretty," agreed Farnsworth. "Tell me about her,—about all the crowd. I've been away a month and lots can happen in that time. Is Patty engaged to Van Reypen?"

"It isn't announced," said Daisy, "but I think she really is. I shouldn't be surprised if they announce it tonight, after Mona goes away."

"Fine chap, Van Reypen. How about the others? Kit and Elise?"

"Yes, I think so. Though that isn't announced either. Goodness, Bill, suppose they all get engaged and married and leave me to be the only old maid in our set!"

"No fear of that, Daisy. Unless you prefer it so,—and I hope you won't."

"You hope that! Why, Bill, if I thought you hoped it——"

Just then a commotion arose as Mona left the table.

"Ready, girls," she cried out. "I'm going to toss my bouquet. Hold out your hands, all of you."

Obediently, her bridesmaids stood in a row, with their hands held out. There was no question of catching the flowers, for Mona after deliberately looking over the lot, tossed it into Patty's hands. "For you," she said, and, laughing, ran away.

"Greatness thrust upon me!" Patty laughed, looking at the great bunch of white orchids and valley lilies, with its fluttering tendrils and ends of ribbon. "Must I really live up to this favour? Must I really be a bride myself before the year is up? Of course, if it is obligatory——"

She looked up, half shy, and caught Van Reypen's gaze upon her. She turned toward Farnsworth, but he was looking another way. Plucking one stem of lilies of the valley from the bunch she tossed it to Phil, who caught it, kissed it, and put it in his buttonhole. Farnsworth looked round just in time to see the act, and smiled at her.

"Didn't mean anything," said Patty, perversely, and then, pulling out half a dozen more sprays, she threw them indiscriminately around, to Cameron, and several of the other ushers who were grouped about. Farnsworth made a slight effort to catch one, but he didn't really try, and the flower fell to the floor just beyond his reach. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, but made no move to pick it up.

Just then Sam Blaney came along, and Patty offered him a flower, and herself adjusted it in his buttonhole.

"I'm crazy to talk to you," he said, "but I didn't belong at your supper table. Can't we go somewhere and have a bit of a chat?"

"Yes," agreed Patty, "only not too far away from the bride's crowd. Mona will be going away soon, and I must see her go, of course. Didn't she look beautiful?"

"Not in comparison with somebody else I know."

"I'm a mind reader, Mr. Blaney, and I perceive you mean me. But you're mistaken. I'm pretty, in a doll-faced way, but Mona is really beautiful."

"You know where beauty is, Miss Fairfield. In the eye of the beholder."

"Let me see. Yes," after she had looked straight into Blaney's eyes, "yes, you have beauty in your eyes."

"The reflection of your face," he replied, serenely. "You are a flower-face; I never saw any one who so well merited the term. I must write a sonnet to Flower Face."

"It can't be any better poetry than the verses you wrote to me at
Lakewood. They are exquisite. Mayn't I show them?"

"Please not. I fancied you would like to keep them just for yourself.
Stay, I have a better name for you. Flower Soul, that's what you are.
That shall be the theme of my sonnet. I think your soul is made of
white lilac."

"Why do you people always talk about souls?" asked Patty, gaily. "You don't mean souls really, you know; you mean—well, what do you mean?"

"No, we don't mean souls in the theological sense, we mean the higher understanding and finer sensations."

"Oh," said Patty, not much enlightened.

"And you are coming to see us soon, aren't you? Alla said you promised her you would."

"Yes, I did. And I will come. Do you have regular meetings, like a club,—or what?"

"Yes, like a club, but not on set dates. I'll let you know when the next one—or, stay, I know now. There will be a gathering at our place next Tuesday night. Will you attend? May I come and fetch you?"

"Yes, do, I'd love to be there. Gracious, here comes Mona. I must be with the others."

Patty hurried across the room to stand with the bridal attendants, and, looking very handsome in her travelling costume, Mona bade them good-bye. There was no mad scramble as the bride and groom departed, but flower petals and confetti were showered on them, which they good-naturedly allowed.

"Come along, my lady," said Roger, at last, as Mona delayed to talk to the girls.

And then they went away, and some of the guests stayed to dance a little longer.

"Come, Patty," said Van Reypen, as the orchestra struck up, "this is our dance."

Patty assented, and they went gliding over the perfect floor.

Philip said nothing while they danced, and Patty, too, was silent.
This was unusual, for Patty generally chattered as she danced.

"Tired, dear?" said Philip, at last.

"A little. It has been a long evening."

"And a strenuous one. I saw you were getting weary as you stood in that line of receiving so long. Come, let us sit down."

Philip guided her to a pleasant settee, screened by tall palms, and seated himself beside her.

"Poor little girl," he said, "you're all done up. You must go home soon, Patty. You can't dance any more tonight."

"Oh, yes, I can. I'm not really tired. It's more excitement and——"

"And nerves. I know,—Mona getting married means a lot to you. You're very intimate friends, aren't you?"

"Yes; and as she has no mother, Nan and I have tried to do all we could for her, but she is so capable, we couldn't do much, after all."

"No; I suppose not. Patty, why did she give you her bouquet? I thought brides threw them, and any one caught them that could."

"They do, usually."

"Well, then, why didn't Mona?"

"Oh, because,—oh, I don't know."

"You do know, Patty. Was it because she thinks you will be the next bride of your set? Because she thinks you will marry—me?"

Phil's eyes were radiant, and his voice trembled as he whispered, "And will you, dear? Will you, my little Patty? You promised, you know, to tell me tonight. So, tell me,—and tell me,—yes."

Patty sat up very straight and looked at him. "Philip," she said, and her voice was serious; "if I have to decide now, it will be No. I did say I'd tell you tonight, and I meant to, but I'm all tired and bothered, and if I'm not careful, I shall cry! So, if you hold me to my promise, I'll answer you now, but it will be No. I can't say Yes,—tonight."

"Then don't say anything. I'll wait, dearest. Oh, Patty, of course, I'll wait. You are exhausted and nervous and you want to rest. Don't answer me now, dear, for I don't want that answer you spoke of! Let's wait a week or so longer, and then make up our mind. Shall us?"

"Yes, Phil, and thank you for being so good to me."