"Three and a half tins--Oh, wait a minute, mama." She held her pen suspended to look through the shop-window. She looked carelessly at first, and then with intentness. A closed carriage was passing down the narrow street, the wheel grating against the pavement had caused her to look up. "There is some one, all in white, in that carriage," she said. "All in white? Have you got the ginger-nuts down, dear? Three and a half tins--" "It was some one so like Bessie. I believe it _was_ Bessie, mama." "Bessie isn't likely to be sitting in a carriage, all in white. Say 'right' when you've got the items down, Deleah. Window sponges at sixpence. Put down nineteen sponges at sixpence, Deleah." "Wait a minute. I'd just like to run up to see what Bessie is doing. I only caught a glimpse, but--I'll be back in one minute, mama." Within that time she was back, a scared look on her face: "Bessie is not in the house, mama." Mrs. Day looked up in mild surprise. "And Emily is gone too." "Emily? Gone?" "The street door is locked, the key taken, and they are both gone." "Emily has no right to go off like that in the middle of the morning. Bessie should not allow it. I must speak to them both when they come home. We got as far as the sponges--" "Mama, it _was_ Bessie in white in that carriage--her face was turned away, but I felt nearly sure. Some one was with her on the side farther away; that was Emily." Deleah looked at her mother, as if questioning in her own mind how much of the truth she could bear, before she went on. "Don't be upset, mama. I was going to tell you something. I feel sure Bessie is gone to be married to-day; and Emily has gone with her." "Deleah!" "Sit down for a minute. They have been so mysterious, all the week--haven't you noticed?--and so busy; no one knew about what--" "Married! Married! How can she be married? There is no one for her to be married to." "Do sit down. There is nothing to look so white about. Haven't you guessed? I have guessed all along. It is Mr. Boult." "Boult! Mr. George Boult?" "Yes." "Mr. George Boult!" "Yes. Mr. George Boult. I keep telling you, mama. That day we wrote the letter, I ran upstairs unexpectedly, and they were sitting on the sofa, and that old man had got his arm round Bessie's waist." "George Boult's arm? Bessie? _Our_ Bessie?" "Yes. Now, don't faint, or begin to cry. I am certain they have gone to be married." "Bessie never would! She never would! It is _awful_ of her! It can't be! It can't be!" "It _is_. I am sure of it as if I were in the church, seeing it done. Oh, mama, _don't_ give way. _Don't!_ I have told you, so that when they come back, here as they will--they will! in half an hour, you may be quite brave, and not give way before them."