"Will you please stop that performance?" demanded her mother. "My daughter, the dress is ridiculous!"
Sue stared. "Ridiculous?"
"Showy—loud."
"But—but it's my bridesmaid's dress."
"I tell you, it's unsuited—a woman of forty-five! Please go and change."
"Oh, come now," put in Balcome, a little sharply. "You never think of Sue as being forty-five." Then with a large wave of the hand in Sue's direction, "What do you want to make her feel older than she is for?"
"I had no such intention," retorted Mrs. Milo, coldly—and righteously. "On the contrary, I think Susan is well preserved."
"Preserved!" gasped Sue, both hands to her head.
"Preserved grandmother!" scoffed Balcome. "Sue looks like a bride herself. Sue, when that parson gets his eye on you——"
Mrs. Milo saw herself outdone. Her safety lay in harassing him. "Speaking of eyes, Mr. Balcome," she said sweetly, "it strikes me that yours look as if you'd been up all night."