‘What is that?  I have not heard of it.’

‘I opine they have kept it rather close,’ said the housekeeper,—­’the day after to-morrow it comes off; and not a soul let in without a ticket.  I hoped you might have one, Mr. Rollo.’

‘What about the charades?’

‘I don’t like them,’ said Mrs. Bywank decidedly,—­’and they want Miss Wych in every one.  So she’s been getting her dresses ready, with my help, and telling me the whole story.  It’s “Mr. May and I are to do this,”—­and “While I stand so, Captain Lancaster stands so.”  The last of all is a wedding.’

‘A wedding!’ Rollo repeated.  ‘Is she to be in that too?’

‘Of course,’ said Mrs. Bywank.  ’And she said she tried ever so hard to get a ticket for me—­that I might see her dressed up.  But Madame would not.  So said I, “Miss Wych, I would rather not see you in that dress, till it’s the real thing.”

’ “O—­take what you can get,” she said, running the needle into her finger and making a great fuss about it.

’ “My dear,” I said, “marriage is much too sacred a thing, in my judgment, to be turned into a frolic.”

’ “Well I didn’t want to do it,” she said, a little sober; “but Madame would not let me off.” ’

‘Well?—­’ said Rollo, with a short breath, as the old lady again paused.

’ “But Miss Wych,” I said, “are you to act that with Captain Lancaster?”

’So she flamed out at that, and asked me if I thought she would?

’ “Well,” said I, “for my part, I don’t understand how any young lady who expects to be married”—­but she put her hand right over my mouth.

’ “Now Byo, stop!” she said.  “You know you are talking of me—­ not of other young ladies.”

’ “Who is to be the happy man in this case?” said I, when she would let me speak.  And she just looked at me, and wouldn’t answer a word.  So I went on.  “I suppose I may talk about men, Miss Wych,—­and I say I don’t think the right sort of man, who meant some day to marry the right sort of woman, would ever want to go through the motions with everybody else.”—­She was silent a while,—­then she looked up.

’ “I wish I had heard all this before, Byo,—­but it’s too late now, for I’ve promised.  And of course I never thought it all out so.  You know I’ve never even seen a wedding.  But is only Mr. Lasalle, in this case; and you know he has ’been though the motions’ “—­Mr. Lasalle, truly!’ Mrs. Bywank repeated in great scorn.  ‘A likely thing!’

‘Going through the motions!’ Rollo repeated.  ’Do you mean that the wedding ceremony is to be performed?’

‘It sounds so, to me,’ said Mrs. Bywank. ’ “Well, my dear,” said I,—­“then I say this.  No man who has been through the motions in earnest with one woman, ought to go them over in play with another.”

’She looked up again,—­one of her pretty, grave looks; and said slowly, as if she was thinking out her words:  “Maybe you are right, Byo.  I never thought about it.  And of course that sort of man never could.”