She could not resist this little sting, which made Paul wince and fan himself with his hat. “Oh! you mean Fenner, who has a title in his family. There’s nothing in that. Why, he hasn’t a dollar to his name.” “And you have a good many dollars,” Miss Hansford rejoined; then added, as she saw a flush on Paul’s face and knew her shaft had hit, “You seem too young to get married.” “Why, Aunt Phebe,” Paul exclaimed, “I am twenty-three, and Clarice is twenty-one. I look like a boy, I know, but this will age me some,” and he stroked the soft brown mustache, of which he was rather proud. “This was Clarice’s idea. I believe she thinks I look younger than she does, but I don’t. We are neither of us children. Some fellows are married when they are twenty. I shall be twenty-four, for we do not intend to be married until the middle of October. I mean to have you come to the wedding with mother. You have never been in Washington and you’ll like it. I shall have you stop at Willard’s. Mrs. Percy does not live far from there. You’ve heard of Willard’s?” “I’d smile if I hadn’t,” Miss Hansford said, while Paul began to open a paper box which he had brought with him. “You see,” he continued, as he untied the cords, “I wanted to bring you something from Europe. I found a creamy kind of shawl in Cairo,—the real thing, and no sham,—and after I was engaged I felt so happy that I wanted to give you something more to wear to my wedding, so I thought of a silk dress. Clarice picked it out for me at the Louvre in Paris. Here it is,” and he unrolled a pattern of grey silk, whose texture and quality Miss Hansford appreciated, although not much accustomed to fabrics like this. “Clarice said the color would be becoming to you and was just the thing. She knows what’s what,” he continued, gathering up the silk material in folds, just as the salesman had done at the Louvre. He did not explain that when he spoke of inviting Miss Hansford to his wedding Clarice had at first objected and only been won over when she saw how much he wished it. It was not necessary to tell this, and he kept quoting Clarice, as if she had been prime mover in the matter. No woman is proof against a silk such as Paul was displaying, and Miss Hansford was not an exception. “Oh, Paul,” she said, laying her hand upon the heavy folds which would almost stand alone, “what made you do this for an old woman like me, who never had but two silk gowns in her life, and both of ’em didn’t cost half as much as this, I know. It was kind in you and Clarice, too, I’m sure. Tell her I thank her, and I hope you will be happy.” Her manner certainly had changed, mollified by the dress and the part Clarice had in it, and when Paul, emboldened by the change, ventured to say, “Clarice thinks you should have some little lace thingembob for your head such as mother wears,” she didn’t resent it, but replied, “I can find that in Boston. Neither you nor Clarice shall be ashamed of me if I go.”