It was a pretty wedding, a very pretty wedding. Every one said that. The pink and green of the decorations, the soft lights (Kate had had her way about darkening the rooms), the pretty frocks and smiling faces of the guests all helped. Then there were the dainty flower girl, little Kate, the charming maid of honor, Billy, the stalwart, handsome best man, Bertram, to say nothing of the delicately beautiful bride, who looked like some fairy visitor from another world in the floating shimmer of her gossamer silk and tulle. There was, too, not quite unnoticed, the bridegroom; tall, of distinguished bearing, and with features that were clear cut and-to-day-rather pale. Then came the reception--the “women and confusion” of Cyril's fears--followed by the going away of the bride and groom with its merry warfare of confetti and old shoes. At four o'clock, however, with only William and Bertram remaining for guests, something like quiet descended at last on the little house. “Well, it's over,” sighed Billy, dropping exhaustedly into a big chair in the living-room. “And _well_ over,” supplemented Aunt Hannah, covering her white shawl with a warmer blue one. “Yes, I think it was,” nodded Kate. “It was really a very pretty wedding.” “With your help, Kate--eh?” teased William. “Well, I flatter myself I did do some good,” bridled Kate, as she turned to help little Kate take the flower wreath from her head. “Even if you did hurry into my room and scare me into conniption fits telling me I'd be late,” laughed Billy. Kate tossed her head. “Well, how was I to know that Aunt Hannah's clock only meant half-past eleven when it struck twelve?” she retorted. Everybody laughed. “Oh, well, it was a pretty wedding,” declared William, with a long sigh. “It'll do--for an understudy,” said Bertram softly, for Billy's ears alone. Only the added color and the swift glance showed that Billy heard, for when she spoke she said: “And didn't Cyril behave beautifully? 'Most every time I looked at him he was talking to some woman.” “Oh, no, he wasn't--begging your pardon, my dear,” objected Bertram. “I watched him, too, even more closely than you did, and it was always the _woman_ who was talking to _Cyril!_” Billy laughed. “Well, anyhow,” she maintained, “he listened. He didn't run away.” “As if a bridegroom could!” cried Kate. “I'm going to,” avowed Bertram, his nose in the air. “Pooh!” scoffed Kate. Then she added eagerly: “You must be married in church, Billy, and in the evening.” Bertram's nose came suddenly out of the air. His eyes met Kate's squarely. “Billy hasn't decided yet how _she_ does want to be married,” he said with unnecessary emphasis. Billy laughed and interposed a quick change of subject. “I think people had a pretty good time, too, for a wedding, don't you?” she asked. “I was sorry Mary Jane couldn't be here--'twould have been such a good chance for him to meet our friends.” “As--_Mary Jane?_” asked Bertram, a little stiffly.