"Very well, then," said he. "Your blood be on your own head."
"My head's red enough already!" I giggled. "Oh, what fun! You are good, after all."
"Am I good, Mrs. James, or am I bad?" he asked, turning for the first time to her, as if he were half inclined to change his mind. But she only smiled. "I can't see that there's any real harm," said she. "It does seem a pity that these poor people should have come all this way and spent all this money for nothing, don't you think so?"
"I wasn't thinking of them. I was thinking of Miss MacDonald."
"I'm thinking of her too," answered Mrs. James, as seriously as if she were deciding something important. "If you don't mind on your own account, why——"
He laughed. "Oh, as to that!—--Well, come along, Miss MacDonald——"
"Barrie," I reminded him.
"Barrie! On with our wedding toggery, and let's be quick, if we don't want an audience."
He called the photographer rather sharply, and put him out of his suspense. "You must thank the ladies' kind hearts," he said. "They can't bear to have your scheme end in smoke. Tell us what you want us to do, and we'll do it—anything in reason. But you mustn't expect the bride to show her face. She must keep it turned aside."
"That'll be all right," said the man, "though, of course, we should have preferred——But after your great kindness we mustn't ask too much——"