"Miss Swift—oh, you mustn't remember anything she says,—poor girl."
"Well, I won't, but I guess she wanted your doctor herself—"
"Hush, childie. Don't say such things. I couldn't help it. I didn't try to make him love me."
"I'm glad he had some sense. I had picked out Dr. Dick for you, but my own sister Gail got him; so it's all right. I like Dr. Race next best. When are you going to be married?"
"Next week Wednesday."
"So soon? Why, I thought it took heaps of time to get ready for a marriage,—making clothes, and baking the cake and—and all such things as that."
"I have taken heaps of time," smiled the woman whimsically.
"Why, I didn't know that. When did you get time? You have always been busy nursing since I knew you."
"Years and years ago, when I was a little child, my father made me a beautiful cedar chest, and on every birthday mother laid away some pillow slips or linen sheets, or a piece of silverware. When I grew older, I made some quilts and hemmed towels and napkins by the dozen, embroidered sofa-cushions and doilies, and even fashioned some window draperies for the 'den' of my house to be. Only my own clothes remained undone when we decided to go hand in hand the rest of the way through life; and much of that work a dressmaker has done, because I have had neither time nor talent."
"Did she make your wedding dress?" asked Peace eagerly. "What is it like? And are you going to have a veil?"