Wincing just a little she turned back to me with a certain gesture of appeal.
"Cry one day and laugh another, is it?" she ventured experimentally.
"Going to the dentist isn't very jolly—you're quite right," interposed the Bride.
"No, it certainly isn't," sympathized every body.
It was perfectly evident that no one in the party except my Husband and myself knew just what had happened to the dentistry expedition. And Ann Woltor wasn't quite sure even yet, I could see, whether I knew or not. The return home the night before had been so late the commotion over Allan John's whistle so immediate—the breakfast hour itself such a chaos of nonsense and foolery. Certainly there was no object in prolonging her uncertainty. I liked her infinitely too much to worry her. Very fortunately also she had a ready eye, the one big compensating gift that Fate bestows on all people who have ever been caught off their guard even once by a real trouble. She never muffed any glance I noticed that you wanted her to catch.
"Oh, I hate to think, Ann dear," I smiled, "about there being any tears yesterday. But if tears yesterday really should mean a laugh to-day——"
"Oh, to-day!" quickened Ann Woltor. "Who can tell about to-day!"
"Then you really would like to go?" said George Keets.
Across Ann Woltor's shoulders a little shrug quivered.
"Why, of course, I'm going!" said Ann Woltor.