"Nellie," said the goaded Thomas, acting on her counsel, "I haven't got a thing against any friend of yours, but I'm tired of your match-making." "Match-making!" Mrs. Gibson repeated, like most who adopt that most thankless of the professions ready on the instant to repudiate it. "Me!" "Yes, Nellie, I'm not a suspicious man, but a child in arms could see through your little game. I dare say you mean it kindly, but when a man's not looking for a wife, it's embarrassing to have first one woman and then another thrown at his head." "I suppose," commented Mrs. Gibson acridly, "you'd rather end up your days a pitiable old bachelor, mooning over the woman who played with you for a dozen years and threw you down at last." "If she threw me down, 'twas because I deserved it." "Deserve nothing. You haven't the sense to go in when it rains, Thomas Hardin, and a week-old kitten would beat you for gumption. But for all that, you're a long sight more of a catch than most men." This impassioned tribute apparently left Thomas dumb. Mrs. Gibson followed up her advantage. "I suppose you'd rather set in meeting and look at the back of Persis Dale's bonnet than to have a nice wife of your own in the pew beside you." "Well, since you ask me, Nellie, I would." "She's made you a laughing-stock. She don't care any more for you--" "Of course she don't. Why should she? A woman like her." "Then I wash my hands of you." Mrs. Gibson's voice suggested tears. "Thank you, Nellie," Thomas returned gratefully, and his sister's receiver slammed into the hook. Thomas followed suit, and last of all, Persis Dale, after assuring herself that she was not likely to hear more, returned the receiver to its place and went to satisfy her friend's curiosity. "Well?" Mrs. West had emptied her teacup and the soothing effects of the potion showed in her altered voice. "Yes, Josephine's there," Persis replied to the elliptical inquiry. "But I gathered from something that was let drop that maybe she wouldn't stay long. So if you want a visit with her you'd better not waste any time." CHAPTER XXIII WEDDING BELLS The wedding dress was finished and a success. "I guess it'll have to be my valedictory," Persis said with ill-concealed elation. "I'm never going to beat that if I dressmake till I'm a hundred." As for Diantha, her ecstasy implied that whatever the risks attached to the matrimonial venture, they were abundantly offset by the privilege of arraying one's self in habiliments of such transcendental charm. But of the two, the girl's happiness was the least overcast. Diantha did not realize the pathos of her ability to leave her home without a pang. Since tears are only the reverse side of joy, the bride who says farewell to her girlhood dry-eyed is a legitimate object of sympathy. Diantha's unclouded happiness was significant of all that her youth had lacked.