“But they preferred it, Mrs. Hartwell.”
“What if they did?” retorted the lady, sharply. “Can't you do as you please in your own home? Evening weddings are so much prettier! We can't change now, of course, with the guests all invited. That is, I suppose you do have guests!”
Mrs. Hartwell's voice was aggrievedly despairing.
“Oh, yes,” smiled Billy, demurely. “We have guests invited—and I'm afraid we can't change the time.”
“No, of course not; but it's too bad. I conclude there are announcements only, as I got no cards.
“Announcements only,” bowed Billy.
“I wish Cyril had consulted me, a little, about this affair.”
Billy did not answer. She could not trust herself to speak just then. Cyril's words of two days before were in her ears: “Yes, and it will give Big Kate time to try to make your breakfast supper, and your roses pinks—or sunflowers.”
In a moment Mrs. Hartwell spoke again.
“Of course a noon wedding is quite pretty if you darken the rooms and have lights—you're going to do that, I suppose?”