“Now, for my part,” she said a few minutes later as she laid down a pair of dainty white kid shoes, glittering with spangles from the tip of their peaked toes to their very heels,—­high enough for modern days,—­“These fit you to perfection, my dear.  For my part,” she repeated, “you know that I have always hoped you would marry Stephen, yet my sympathies go with Master Waldo in his loss, instead of with the other one, whom I think your father at last grew to like best of the three; it was strange that such a man could have gotten such an influence, but then, they were in business together, and there is always something mysterious about business.  Master Waldo is a fine, open-hearted young man, and he was very fond of you.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” answered the girl, with an effort to merge a smile into the expression accompanying a sympathetic sigh.  “It’s too bad.  But, then, men must look out for themselves, women have to, and Kenelm Waldo probably thinks he is worth any woman’s heart.”

“So he is, Katie.”

“Um!” said the girl.  “Well, he’d be wiser to be a little humble about it.  It takes better.”

“Do you call Stephen humble?”

Katie laughed merrily.  “But,” she said, at last, “Stephen is Stephen, and humility wouldn’t suit him.  He would look as badly without his pride as without his lace ruffles.”

“Is it his lace ruffles you’re in love with, my child?”

“I don’t know, mother,” and she laughed again.  “When should a young girl laugh if not on the eve of her marriage with the man of her choice, when friends and wealth conspire to make the event auspicious?”

“I shall not write to thank Elizabeth for her gift,” she said, “for she will be here before a letter can reach her.  She leaves Boston to-morrow, that’s Tuesday, and she must be here by Friday, perhaps Thursday night, if they start very early.”

“I thought Master Royal’s letter said Monday?”

“Tuesday,” repeated Katie, “if the weather be suitable for his daughter.  Look at this letter and you’ll see; his world hinges on his daughter’s comfort, he is father and mother both to her.  Elizabeth needs it, too; she can’t take care of herself well.  Perhaps she could wake up and do it for somebody else.  But I am not sure.  She’s a dear child, though she seems to me younger than I am.  Isn’t it funny, mother, for she knows a good deal more, and she’s very bright sometimes?  But she never makes the best of anything, especially of herself.”

It was the day before the wedding.  The great old house was full of bustle from its gambrel roof to its very cellar in which wines were decanted to be in readiness, and into which pastries and sweetmeats were carried from the pantry shelves overloaded with preparations for the next day’s festivities.  Servants ran hither and thither, full of excitement and pleasant anticipations.  They all loved Katie who had grown up among them.  And, besides, the