“Well, it was you that did it, Mrs. Briggs!” Mrs. Burrell cried, in a loud voice, as if to keep the situation from becoming sentimental. “I might as well give you the credit. That talkin’ to you gave me that day after your ball just opened my eyes. I suppose I _am_ kind of a cross old thing, and--well, I didn’t understand Rufus James. The family’s always been poor and good-for-nothing. But Rufus, he’s got lots of spunk. Why, at first he wouldn’t come to the house--even when I said he could. You’d think he was a prince, the way he acted. And he’s doin’ real well. He’s had a raise in his salary, and he ain’t lettin’ father do a thing for him.” “And is it to be soon?” Helen asked. “The third of next month,” Emeline and Gladys cried together. “And we want you to come, Mrs. Briggs,” said Carrie Cora, recovering from her embarrassment. “It’s going to be a church affair,” said Mrs. Burrell, severely, smoothing the front of her dress. This was one of the moments when Mrs. Burrell betrayed that the possession of plenty of money was still novel to her. “Oh, do come, Mrs. Briggs,” Gladys pleaded. “Yes, please,” Emeline echoed. Helen hesitated. “I don’t know whether I can.” “Oh, promise. Please promise,” Carrie Cora insisted. “If I can, I will,” Helen replied, feeling ashamed. She knew that her husband would not entertain the notion for an instant. “And, of course, you’ll stay at our house,” Mrs. Burrell went on. “We’ve had a wing built on this Winter. It’s just like that wing on yours in Washington.” “And the furniture’s just like yours, too,” said Carrie Cora. “We got it in Portland. They say it’s real antique. Lots of it has come from old houses in Portland and from all kinds of queer places in the country.” Mrs. Burrell looked proudly at her eldest daughter. “Ain’t she changed, though?” she said, glancing at Helen. “You’d hardly know her, would you? The way she’s brightened up since Rufus James began to come to the house. Dear me! I used to say to father that I didn’t know what we was goin’ to do with her.” Helen smiled at Carrie Cora. “But we’ve always understood each other, haven’t we, dear?” “Yes, always, Mrs. Briggs,” the girl replied.