"'Fraid I'll have to tackle someb'dy else 'bout that money," he went on after a pause; "Tim'thy says he ain't got a cent loose, jest now. I did kind o' want to keep it quiet, keep it to the fambly like, but I can git it; I can git th' money; on'y it'll take time." "Why, Father, I begged you not to try," said Helen impatiently. "I don't need money; ask John." "W'at you've spent can't come on John," declared Mr. Winship; "I'll have to be inquirin' 'round. But I'm glad to see ye lookin' brighter'n you did yist'day, Sissy; Tim'thy's wife'll have an eye on ye. She's comin' here agin to-morrer, she says, to a weddin'. You didn't tell me 'bout any one gittin' married--not in sich a hurry, not to-morrer. W'ich gal is it?" "Wouldn't think it was Cadge, would you?" laughed Kitty, staggering into the room under the weight of a big palm. "Next chum I have, it'll be in the contract that, in case of emergency, she helps run her own wedding. 'Course Helen's all right with me--or will be, once Caroline Bryant's disposed of." In spite of the confusion of the wedding preparations, Helen did do credit to Kitty's nursing; and last evening, when there came the climax of all the bustle, she seemed stronger even than on Friday. It was a night to remember! The big Indians of the canvasses peeped grimly from ambushes of flowers and tall ferns, as the studio door opened and Kitty came running to meet me, her cheeks flushed and her curls in a hurricane. "'Most time for the minister," she cried breathlessly, "and not a sign of Cadge! Not a sign! And I want to tell you--Helen's sorry we invited the General, but she won't come, so that's no matter; but the Bakers--do they like him?" "Like the minister?" "Like Ned Hynes?" panted Kitty. "When we asked 'em yesterday, I forgot, but he'll be here. Pros. and he belong to a downtown club--'At the Sign of the Skull and Crossbones'--or something--" "Well?" "Oh, it's all right, but I thought I'd tell you. If only Cadge'd come! That's what eating me!" Kitty groaned. "But do you see our Princess? All she needed was me to make her comfy. Shall I get you the least little bit of colour, out of a box, Helen? Or--no; you're too lovely. But come, you must have some roses." As Helen joined us, very pale in her shimmering dress, with her hair like an aureole about her head, she looked a tall, white Grace, a swaying lily shining in the dusky place. Almost with the old reverence I whispered:-- "You are the most beautiful of woman!" "Do I please you, Sir?" she said, smiling as she moved away again with Kitty. "Won't you see to Father? He's come without his necktie." "Sho, Sis!" said Mr. Winship; "don't my beard hide it? Declare I clean forgot." Soon Helen returned to pin a flower at my button-hole. "Where _can_ Cadge be?" she cried gaily; but her hands shook and she dropped the rose. "Do you suppose she's interviewing a lunatic asylum?"