“Ester, do come.  Father says the inclosed fifty dollars is a present from him, which you must honor by letting it pay your fare to New York just as soon as possible.  The wedding is fixed for the twenty-second; and we want you here at least three weeks before that.  Brother Ralph is to be first groomsman; and he especially needs your assistance, as the bride has named you for her first bridesmaid.  I’m to dress—­I mean the bride is to dress—­in white, and mother has a dress prepared for the bridesmaid to match hers; so that matter need not delay or cause you anxiety.

“This letter is getting too long.  I meant it to be very brief and pointed.  I designed every other word to be ‘come;’ but after all I do not believe you will need so much urging to be with us at this time.  I flatter myself that you love me enough to come to me if you can.  So, leaving Ralph to write directions concerning route and trains, I will run and try on the bride’s bonnet, which has just come home.

“P.S.  There is to be a groom as well as a bride, though I see I have said nothing concerning him.  Never mind, you shall see him when you come.  Dear Ester, there isn’t a word of tense in this letter, I know; but I haven’t time to put any in.”

“Really,” laughed Sadie, as she concluded the reading, “this is almost foolish enough to have been written by me.  Isn’t it splendid, though?  Ester, I’m glad you are you.  I wish I had corresponded with Cousin Abbie myself.  A wedding of any kind is a delicious novelty; but a real New York wedding, and a bridesmaid besides—­my!  I’ve a mind to clap my hands for you, seeing you are too dignified to do it yourself.”

“Oh,” said Ester, from whose face the flush had faded, leaving it actually pale with excitement and expected disappointment, “you don’t suppose I am foolish enough to think I can go, do you?”

“Of course you will go, when Uncle Ralph has paid your fare, and more, too.  Fifty dollars will buy a good deal besides a ticket to New York.  Mother, don’t you ever think of saying that she can’t go; there is nothing to hinder her.  She is to go, isn’t she?”

“Why, I don’t know,” answered this perplexed mother.  “I want her to, I am sure; yet I don’t see how she can be spared.  She will need a great many things besides a ticket, and fifty dollars do not go as far as you imagine; besides, Ester, you know I depend on you so much.”

Ester’s lips parted to speak; and had the words come forth which were in her heart, they would have been sharp and bitter ones—­about never expecting to go anywhere, never being able to do any thing but work; but Sadie’s eager voice was quicker than hers: 

“Oh now, mother, it is no use to talk in that way.  I’ve quite set my heart on Ester’s going.  I never expect to have an invitation there myself, so I must take my honors secondhand.

“Mother, it is time you learned to depend on me a little.  I’m two inches taller than Ester, and I’ve no doubt I shall develop into a remarkable person when she is where we can’t all lean upon her.  School closes this very week, you know, and we have vacation until October.  Abbie couldn’t have chosen a better time.  Whom do you suppose she is to marry?  What a queer creature, not to tell us.  Say she can go, mother—­quick!”