It was her mother who answered his summons this time, and Allen's manner and face checked her words. Before he had done telling her what had happened, Chris herself was on the threshold, already in sober brown, as one who has put aside rainbows and entered on life. She had a little brown hat in one hand, and for the other hand he groped out and held it while he told her, as well as he could.
"I guess I've got to go, Chrissie," he ended miserably.
She met his eyes, her own soft with sympathy for the plight of the other woman.
"Well, yes," she said quietly, "of course we've got to go."
He looked at her breathlessly. That possibility had not crossed his mind.
"You!" he cried. "You couldn't go, dear. Twelve miles out in Caledonia, cold as it is to-night. You—"
In spite of her sympathy, she laughed at him then.
"Did you honestly think I wouldn't?" she asked, in a kind of wonder.
"Well, I'm sure—" began her mother. But the two bridesmaids manifestly heard the Word again, for they talked with her both at once.