"But then do anything you like. You'll remember that yesterday you twitted me about having to be waited on. I'll prove to you, my dear, that I can get on without you."
"Yes," said Sue, again. "And for what it would cost to take me, you can hire the best of attention."
"That's true, though I hadn't thought of it. But for a woman of my years, I'm very active. I need no attention, really.—Just see, will you, if there isn't a hook loose here on this shoulder? Mrs. Balcome was downstairs when I dressed."
Sue looked. "It's all right, mother dear."
"And this bonnet"—she gave it a petulant twitch—"you know it's heavier on one side than the other. I told you that when you were making it."
"I'm sorry, mother." Sue adjusted the bonnet with deft hands.
"And now I have a thousand things to do!" It was like a dismissal of Sue. Two things had come between them: on Sue's part, it was the sudden knowledge of her mother's character—of its depths and its shallows; while on the part of the elder woman, it was injured pride, and never-to-be-forgotten mortification.
Mrs. Milo floated away to the door. "And Mr. Farvel has a great secret to tell you," she chirped as she went; "—a wonderful secret." She turned to blink both eyes at the clergyman roguishly. "He's going to confess to you." Then she held out the bride's bouquet, and with such a peremptory gesture that Sue came to take it from her. Next she shook a finger at Farvel. "Now out with it, Alan!" she commanded.
"Alan!" gasped Sue, under her breath. She gave her mother a tiny push.
"Yes, go, mother! Hurry! You're wanted at the telephone!"
"I'm wanted at the steamship office," answered Mrs. Milo. "Oh, think of it!—Egypt! The Holy Land! The Garden of Eden!"