Mrs. Milo, busily engaged in quieting Mrs. Balcome, lifted her head, but without turning.
"I?" laughed Sue.
"Understand there's a good-looking parson here."
A quick smile—toward the door leading to the Church. Sue fell to arranging her dress. "Mm, yes," she answered, a little absent-mindedly; "yes, there is—one here."
"Oh, marry! Marry! Marry!" scolded Mrs. Milo. "I think people are marry crazy."
Balcome laughed. "I believe you!—Sue, why don't you capture that parson?"
Mrs. Milo rose, taking a peep at the tiny watch hidden under the frill at a wrist. "Susan," she said sweetly, "will you see what the florist is doing?"
"Oh, he's all right, mother dear. He——"
"Do you want your mother to do it?"
"Oh, no, mother. No." All gauze and sheen, like a mammoth butterfly,
Sue hurried across the room.