"Oh, I've tried compromise," said the girl, wearily. "Well, ABC mediation never was much of a success up around Buffalo," went on Sue, her eyes twinkling with fun. "Ho-hum! The Secretary of State"--she indicated herself--"will see what she can do." And strolling to the sofa, "Mrs. Balcome, hadn't we better talk this rehearsal over with the head of the house?" Mrs. Balcome swept round. "Talk?" she cried. "Talk? Why, I never speak to him." Sue gasped. "Wha-a-at?" "Never," confirmed Hattie. "And he never talks to her--except through me." Sue was incredulous. "You mean----" And pantomimed, pointing from an imaginary speaker to Hattie; from Hattie to a second speaker; then back. "Exactly." Sue pretended to be overwhelmed. She sank to a chair. "Oh, that sounds wonderful!" she cried. "I want to try it!" "That new job you're looking for," suggested Hattie. "You know I resign tomorrow." Sue rose and struck an absurd attitude. "Behold Susan Milo, the Human Telephone!" she announced. And to Hattie's mother, "Where is Mr. Balcome?" By now, Mrs. Balcome had entirely recovered her breath. "Where he is," she answered calmly, "or what he does, is of no importance to me." She picked at the crepe cascade. Sue exchanged a look with her mother. "Well--er--he'll be here?" she ventured. Mrs. Balcome lifted her ample shoulders. "I don't know, and I don't care." She fell to caressing the dog. Sue nodded understandingly to Hattie. "The Secretary of State," she declared, "is going to have her hands full." Whereupon the two sat down at either side of the center table, leaned their arms upon it, and gave themselves up to paroxysms of silent laughter. CHAPTER II Not far away, in an upper room, two men were facing each other across a table--the wide, heavy work-table of the Rectory "study." The "study" was a south room, and into it the May sun poured like a warm stream, to fade further the green of the "cartridge" paper on the walls and the figures of the "art-square" that covered the floor, and to bring out with cruel distinctness the quantities of dust that Dora was allowed to disturb not more frequently than once a week. For the "study" was a place sacred to the privacy of each succeeding clergyman. And here, face to face, Alan Farvel and the bridegroom-to-be were ending a long, grave conversation--a prenuptial conversation invited by the younger man.