Grandma with a cup of lukewarm tea shattered the vision. III MILLY BECOMES ENGAGED "Milly," Nettie Gilbert said impressively, "I've something serious to say to you." It was a Sunday evening before the fire in the Gilberts' pleasant drawing-room. The other supper guests had taken themselves off, and Roy Gilbert had disappeared to his den, where he smoked many cigars and was supposed to read serious books upon history and political economy. Milly glanced apprehensively at the pretty, plump lady beside her. The tone in which the words had been pronounced reminded her oddly of that time so far away--so very far back--when Eleanor Kemp had talked to her seriously about completing her education. "Yes, dear?" she answered, caressing a dimpled hand at her side. "Milly,"--Mrs. Gilbert leaned forward and frowned slightly. Milly thought, "Nettie's getting fat, like her mother." The Gilberts had awfully good food and a great deal of it, even if they did go in for missions. "Milly, I have you on my mind a great deal these days." "That's so good of you, dear." Milly thought it must be religion once more, and prepared herself. "You ought to settle yourself.... All your friends think you should marry, dear." "Why?" Milly demanded with some asperity. "Why, a girl in your position--" "Yes, I know all that," Milly interrupted quickly. She knew far better than Nettie Gilbert how necessary it was for her to settle herself somehow. The bills had grown more rather than less the last two years, and the tea and coffee importing business did not seem to be doing what had been expected of it. There were signs of an increasing financial stringency about Horatio. Then there were other signs, more personal, that were not pleasant to recall. That social career which had opened so brilliantly rather more than two years before had been full of pleasures and excitements. For nearly a season Milly Ridge had been the most talked of and invited girl in her special circle. The next season she had still been "popular," but latterly at the opening of the new season there had been a distinct falling off. The fringe of cards about her long mirror, where she kept her invitations tucked into the margins and pinned in pendants, had grown less fresh--not to say stale--and less distinguished. Mrs. Bowman had forgotten altogether to invite her to dinner this fall. There were other stings and mortifications that need not be described.... Yes, Milly had been pondering the matter more or less consciously for some months. "Well," she said to Mrs. Gilbert, with a brave little smile, "what shall I do about it?" She recognized Nettie Gilbert's right to broach the subject. Nettie had been her best friend, and thanks to her own experience had a fellow-feeling for her and wished to see her launched upon a similar successful career matrimonial. "With all your charm, you could have married a dozen times," she said with gentle reproach.