We talked it all over, and I laid a wager with them both that Mr. Tescheron would repent that night to Gabrielle before she could tell him of her definite plans. I did not tell them why I thought I was betting on a sure thing. I carried out telegrams of joy and summonses to the Gibsons and Hygeia. CHAPTER XXVII The Hosley-Tescheron wedding was the happiest society event in my life. Hygeia, as bridesmaid, dazzled me into forgetfulness; but I stood up and did my part, nevertheless, with a fair degree of precision, but might have done better had I practiced trying to find a ring in my pocket while wearing a glove. Mr. Tescheron behaved admirably. He and his lordly son-in-law on that day really began to get acquainted. The sheepish look he gave me at the wedding betrayed that my letter with the money had happily convinced him, and also his trip to the little cemetery. Concerning Gabrielle and Nellie Gibson, her maid of honor, I would need to shower the technicalities of a fashion journal's vocabulary to present a picture of the loveliness wrought by milliners and dressmakers from the choicest fabrics to grace the slender figures of those pretty girls. Mrs. Tescheron's tears were those of joy. My joy was without tears, for the occasion brought a hearty welcome to Hygeia's Connecticut home. Jim Hosley and I are associated to-day in the management of one of the largest industries rehabilitated by that great executive, John MacDonald, with whom we are on terms of close intimacy. We are surprised at the changes that have come in a few years, and as we look back, we often wonder if the folly of those bachelor days was not after all profitable. Mr. Tescheron has lived long enough to believe it was. To-day he is a charming father-in-law and grandpa, with an improved sense of humor which has robbed him of his keen interest in ornithology, for I heard him say he wished the Stukeville collection would burn up. As for myself, I am not willing to intrude my family affairs here beyond the statement that my days of gloom are over. I ceased to try, and--but as I wanted to add, Gabrielle is clever at housekeeping along the most approved scientific lines. Cooking she regards as a form of chemistry, and she keeps scales in her kitchen to save good dishes from disaster due to the reckless "pinch of this and pinch of that" system. What a contrast with Jim's system of frying eggs! And the marvel of it is, that, in spite of this hospital-like regularity and method, her little dinners at her beautiful home in our model industrial community are amazingly gratifying--solid in breadth and foundation, and alluringly decorated with the ornamental bisque congealments founded on the froth and frosting of beaten egg and whipped cream. My experience as a housekeeper helps me to appreciate fine work in this department of life. I should say that an epicure would make no mistake in marrying a woman lawyer.