Apron-Strings | Page 3

Mrs. Milo, the florist recovered his self-possession, threw
wide his hands in a gesture that was an eloquent tribute to the shining
apparition at the farther end of the room, and backed out.
"Ha-a-a!" sighed Mrs. Milo--with gratification in her triumph over the
decorator, and with a sense of comfort in that cushioned corner of her
favorite sofa. She settled her slender shoulders against the velvet.
Now the satin gown crossed the carpet, and its wearer let fall the
veiling which she had upborne on her outstretched arms. "Mrs. Milo,"
she began.
"Oh!" Mrs. Milo straightened, but without turning, and the fear that the
other had heard her curt dismissal of the florist showed in the quick
shifting of her look. When she spoke again, her voice was all
gentleness. "Yes, my dear new daughter?" she inquired.
Hattie Balcome cocked her head to one side, extended a satin-clad foot,
threw out her hands with fingers extended, and struck a grotesque pose.
"Turn--and behold!" she bade sepulchrally.
Mrs. Milo turned. "A-a-a-ah!" Then having given the wedding-gown a
brief scrutiny, "Er--yes--hm! It's quite pretty."
"Quite pretty!" repeated Hattie. She revolved once, slowly. "What's the
matter with it?"
"We-e-e-ell," began Mrs. Milo, appraising the gown at more length;
"isn't it rather simple, my dear,--for a girl whose father is as wealthy as
yours? Somehow I expected at least a little real lace."
Hattie laughed. "What on earth could I do with real lace in the
mountains of Peru?"

"Peru!" Instantly Mrs. Milo's face grew long. "Then--then my son has
finally decided to accept the position in Peru." Now she took her
underlip in her teeth; and her lashes fluttered as if to keep back tears.
"But you won't miss him terribly, will you? As it is you don't have
him--you don't see such a lot of him."
"Of course, as you say, I don't have him--except for a couple of weeks
in the summer, when Sue has her vacation, and we all go to the
Catskills. Then at Christmastime he comes here for a week. Sue has
never asked permission to have Wallace live at the Rectory----"
"Except of Mr. Farvel."
"Mr. Farvel didn't have to be asked. He and Wallace are old friends.
They met years ago--once when Wallace went to Canada with a boy
chum. And Canada's the farthest he's ever been, so----"
"It was I who decided on Peru," said the girl, almost defiantly. "The
very day he proposed to me he told me about the big silver mine down
there that wants a young engineer. And I said Yes on one condition:
that Wallace would take me as far away from home as possible."
The elder woman rose, finger on lip. "Sh!" she cautioned, glancing
toward the door left open by the florist. "Oh, we don't want any gossip,
Hattie!"
Hattie lifted her eyebrows. "We don't want it," she agreed, "but we
shall get it. They'll all be asking one another, 'Why not the Church? or
the drawing-room? Why the yard?'" She nodded portentously.
Mrs. Milo came nearer. "They'll never suspect," she promised.
"Outdoor weddings are very fashionable."
"Maybe. But what I can't understand is this: Dad's heart is set on this
marriage. He wants to get me out of the way." Then as Mrs. Milo's
expression changed from a gratified beam to a stare of horror, "Oh,
don't be shocked; he has his good reasons. But as I'm going, why can't

he make a few concessions, instead of trying to spoil the wedding?"
"Spoil, dear?" chided the elder woman. "The wedding will be beautiful
in the Close."
Hattie's brown eyes swam with sudden tears. "Perhaps," she answered.
"But just for this one time, why can't my father and mother----"
"Please, Hattie!" pleaded Mrs. Milo. "We must be discreet!" Then to
change the subject, "My dear, let me see the back."
Once more Hattie revolved accommodatingly. Close to the door
leading to the lawn was a door which led, by a short passage, to the
little, old Gothic church which, long planted on its generous allowance
of grounds, had defied--along with an Orphanage that was all but a part
of the Church, so near did the two buildings stand--the encroachment of
new, tall, office structures. As Hattie turned about, she kept her watch
on the door leading to the Church.
"It's really very sweet," condescended Mrs. Milo. "But--you mustn't let
Wallace get a glimpse of this dress before tomorrow." She shook a
playful finger. "That would be bad luck. Now,--what does Susan think
of it?" She seated herself to receive the verdict.
Hattie wagged her head in mock despair. "Oh," she complained, "how
I've tried to find out!"
All Mrs. Milo's playfulness went. She stood up, her manner suddenly
anxious. "Isn't she upstairs?" she asked.
One solemn finger was pointed ceilingward.