Later I began again, “I think the reception at the house after the ceremony should not be very large,” this apropos of nothing, “for by the thirty-first a good many people will have left town, though, of course they’d run up for a wedding like ours,--” “Are you crazy?” she demanded. “We shan’t be home till the twenty-eighth, and you can’t get your invitations engraved in time, let alone sending them out.” Checkers and Sybil drew near. “They’re all done and sent!” we chorused. “I mailed part of them!” proclaimed my brother. “I, too!” piped up Sybil. “When was all this?” cried Aunt. “The day we left New York, so you see, you really can’t do anything about it,” Checkers continued politely. Aunt turned purple. “I don’t believe a word of it, and I shall not countenance it,” whereupon she stamped her foot. And that’s the situation now, dear. * * * * * A. D. TO POLLY _Washington, May._ Behold me, dear, on my native soil, hungrily awaiting a love letter from you, even though I am a little ahead of my schedule. I didn’t cable, in order to surprise you, but nevertheless I hoped you might guess the steamer from my letters. Father was on hand to greet me but I was disappointed when I dashed up the gang plank not to see you on the wharf and later to learn from your butler at the house you were still hundreds of miles away. Then I came on to Washington at once to report. All, everybody--customs-officers, collectors, bank-cashiers, down to the smallest clerk in the Department, when I told them the news, congratulated me heartily and added good wishes till I was as happy as I could possibly be without you. As soon as I hear you have arrived I will take the train to New York and go to the Waldorf. Almost a year ago we began to love each other, though the world did not know, and we kept our secret to ourselves. Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. Aunt will have to come round. * * * * * POLLY TO A. D. _En route, May._ Dearest! Hurrah! You have arrived and we have just left Montreal on our way to New York. Apparently Aunt left word for our mail to be forwarded there, for when we got to the hotel, the clerk produced simply a bushel-basketful. Of course you know what they all were,--acceptances for the wedding! It was the last crushing blow. We left her alone with them in her room, heaps in her lap, piles scattered at her feet, and our vanquished relative sitting in their midst like Caius Marius on the ruins of Carthage. A. D., has she definitely succumbed, I wonder?--She remarked I was a stubborn little heathen.