“While we have known each other but a short time,” Caroline had written in her too sweet way, “I feel close to you, Katie, because it was through you Harry and I came together.  Then whom would we want as much as you!  And as it is to be something of an army wedding, may I not have you, whom Harry calls the ‘most bully army girl’ he ever knew?”

Mrs. Prescott had also written Katie the glad news, saying she was happy, believing Caroline would make Harry a good wife.  Katie was disposed to believe that she would and was emphatically disposed to believe that Mr. Osborne would make Harry a good father-in-law.  Katie’s knowledge of army finances led her to appreciate the value of the right father-in-law for an officer and gentleman who must subsist upon his pay.

But she had made an excuse about the wedding, in no mood to be a bridesmaid, especially to a bride who would enter the bonds of matrimony on the banks of the Mississippi, just opposite a certain place where boats were mended.

She walked on very fast toward Zelda’s, trying to occupy the whole of her mind with planning a new gown.

But Zelda had more tender news to break that day than that of a new scandal.  “Katie,” she approached it, in Zelda’s own delicate fashion, “what would you think of Major Darrett and me joy-riding through life together?”

“I approve of it,” said Katie, with curious heartiness.

“Some joy-ride, don’t you think?”

“I can fancy,” laughed Katie, “that it might be hard to beat.  I think,” she added, “that he’s just the one for you to marry.  And I further think, Zelda, that you’re just the one for him to marry.”

Zelda looked at her keenly.  “No slam on either party?”

“On the contrary, a sort of double-acting approval,” she turned it with a laugh.

“Then as long as your approval has a back action, so to speak, I cop you out right now, Katie, for a bridesmaid.”

“Don’t,” said Katie quickly.  “No, Zelda, I’m not—­suitable.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, too old and worn,” she laughed.  “Bridesmaids should be buds.”

“Showing up the full-blowness of the bride?  Don’t you think it!”

“So you hastened to get me!”

“Come now, Katie, you know very well why I want you.  Why wouldn’t I want you?  Anyhow,” she exposed it, “father wants you.  Father thinks you’re so nice and respectable, Katie.”

“And so, for that matter,” she added, “does my chosen joy-rider.”

“I’m not so sure of his being particularly impressed with my respectability,” replied Katie.

“He’s always been quite dippy about you, Katie.  I don’t know how I ever got him.”

Zelda spoke feelingly of the approaching nuptials of her old school friend.  “Cal’s considerable of a prissy, but take it from me, Harry Prescott will see that all father’s money doesn’t pour into homes for the friendless—­so there’s something accomplished.  Heaven help the poor fellow who must live on his pay,” sighed Zelda piously.