"It—I suppose you might call it missionary work, Genevieve," smiled Cordelia, wistfully.
"More missionary work? Who in the world wants to go to Texas now?" laughed Genevieve.
"Nobody. It isn't Texas at all. It's—Elsie."
"Elsie!"
"Yes. Of course, dear, I don't know as you can do anything; but you've done so many things, and I'm sure if you could, it would be missionary work of the very nicest kind."
"What are you talking about?"
Cordelia drew a long sigh.
"I'll tell you. You know the rest of us bridesmaids are all going to wear white, but—but Elsie's got to wear Fannie's brown silk."
"I know," nodded Genevieve. "Elsie told me."
"But, Genevieve, just think—brown silk for a bridesmaid at a wedding, when all the rest of us wear white! Besides, Elsie says brown is so hot-looking for April. She feels awfully about it."