"Talking wedding?" that tease asked, following me back into the parlour and pirouetting before a mirror. "Chastening experience for once in a way to see mysel' as ithers see me. Big wedding, won't it be? Florist told Cadge he was forcing a churchful of peach and apple blossoms. You're a bridesmaid, ain't you? That was Mrs. Henry? Know I've seen her here. Looks apoplectic; and there's too much musk in her violet."
"That was Mrs. Henry, but I'm not on Peggy's list. How are the beastesses' noses and toeses?"
"Ambulance rung for." Kitty darted to another looking glass. "Regular hall of mirrors, ain't it? Helen, why are photo-engravers—but say, I've seen a list of bridesmaids; Ann Fredericks was one, cousin of the Frederickses; great for Helen, we all said—Pros. and Cadge and—"
"Has the list been printed?"
Kitty looked puzzled.
"What are you cross about?" she said finally. "I don't wonder you get tired of such doings, tugging a ton of bouquet down a church aisle, organ grinding Lohengrin. If ever I marry, I sha'n't ask you to stand up with me; I propose to be the central figure at my own wedding; Cadge can do as she chooses."
"Why, Kitty! Cadge and—why, Pros., of course."
"In June. Came to tell you."
For a moment Kitty's eyes danced, then the mist followed the sunlight, and the poor little creature buried her head in my lap, sobbing.
"Oh, what'll I do," she cried, "when Cadge takes away my brother and my brother takes away Cadge, and you—they say you're going off with that Englisher to be a Countess—not that I ever see anything of you now."