"Well, Jemima Van Rensselaer, I hope you’re satisfied!" she flared out, as soon as she was inside the girl’s door. "What on earth took you out in the wet at this unearthly hour? And on your wedding day, too! I should think you’d be ashamed! I declare I shall be glad to my soul when this day’s over and I can wash my hands of the responsibility of you. If your father knew the freaks and fancies and the queer actions of you I’m not sure what he wouldn’t do to you! Now, look here! Sit down. I want to talk to you." But Dawn had flung herself upon her bed in a paroxysm of tears, and was smothering her wild sobs in the pillow. She did not hear a word. Nor could threats nor protests, nor even a thorough shaking, bring her out of it until the tears had wept themselves out. But finally she lay quiet and white upon the bed, and even the hard-hearted woman who did not love her was stirred to a sort of pity for the abject woe that was upon her face. "Say, look here, Jemima"—even the hated name brought forth no sign from the girl—"now put away all this foolishness. Girls always feel kind of queer at getting married and making a change in life. I did, myself." Dawn wondered indifferently if her step-mother had ever been a girl. She certainly had not been one when she married Dawn’s father. "You’ll feel all right once you get in your own home and have things the way you want them around you." Dawn shuddered. She would have _him_ around her. "Now, do get up and wash your face. A bride oughtn’t to look as if she was just getting over the measles. Besides, you’ll be wanted pretty soon to go downstairs——" "Oh!" Dawn involuntarily put her hand over her heart. "Must I go down and see all those dreadful people? Couldn’t I just stay here till—till—till it’s time?" Now, this was exactly what Mrs. Van Rensselaer wanted her to say, and, moreover, had been counting upon. If Dawn had assented to going down, her step-mother would have found some excuse for keeping her upstairs. But she did not wish the girl to know it, so she assumed a look of mild disapproval. "It’s very queer for you not to want to meet your mother-in-law and father-in-law, and all your new sisters——" Dawn shuddered more violently, and clasped her hands quickly over her eyes, as if to shut out the unpleasant vision of her new kindred. "Oh, no, no, please!" she besought, looking up at her step-mother with more earnest pleading than she had ever shown her before. "Well"—grimly—"I suppose it can be managed, but you’ll want to have a talk with him that’s so soon to be your husband——" "Oh, no, no!" cried Dawn wildly. "I do not want to see him. I cannot talk with him now. I could never, never, go through that awful ceremony afterward if I were to see him now. I should run away or something. I’m sure I should. I don’t want to see anybody until I have to."