"Really I hadn't heard. Whom is Florence to marry?" "Mr. Bines, to be sure! Where have you been? You know she was on his yacht a whole month last summer--the bishop's sister was with her-- highly scandalised all the time by the drinking and gaiety, and now every one's looking for the engagement to be announced. Here, what did I do with that _Town Topics_ Cousin Clint left? There it is on the tabouret. Read the paragraph at the top of the page." Avice read: "An engagement that is rumoured with uncommon persistence will put society on the _qui vive_ when it is definitely announced. The man in the case is the young son of a mining Croesus from Montana, who has inherited the major portion of his father's millions and who began to dazzle upper Broadway about a year since by the reckless prodigality of his ways. His blond _innamorata_ is a recent _divorcee_ of high social standing, noted for her sparkling wit and an unflagging exuberance of spirits. The interest of the gossips, however, centres chiefly in the uncle of the lady, a Right Reverend presiding over a bishopric not a thousand miles from New York, and in the attitude he will assume toward her contemplated remarriage. At the last Episcopal convention this godly and well-learned gentleman was a vehement supporter of the proposed canon to prohibit absolutely the marriage of divorced persons; and though he stoutly championed his bewitching niece through the infelicities that eventuated in South Dakota, _on dit_ that he is highly wrought up over her present intentions, and has signified unmistakably his severest disapproval. However, _nous verrons ce que nous verrons."_ "But, Mutterchen, that's only one of those absurd, vulgar things that wretched paper is always printing. I could write dozens of them myself. Tom Banning says they keep one man writing them all the time, out of his own imagination, and then they put them in like raisins in a cake." "But, my dear, I'm quite sure this is authentic. I know from Fidelia Oldaker that the bishop began to cut up about it to Florence, and Florence defied him. That ancient theory that most gossip is without truth was exploded long ago. As a matter of fact most gossip, at least about the people we know, doesn't do half justice to the facts. But, really, I can't see why he fancied Florence Akemit. I should have thought he'd want some one a bit less fluttery." "I dare say you're right, about the gossip, I mean--" Miss Milbrey remarked when she had finished her tea, and refused the cakes. "I remember, now, one day when we met at her place, and he seemed so much at home there. Of course, it must be so. How stupid of me to doubt it! Now I must run. Good-bye, you old dear, and be good to the cold." "Let me know what you do." "Indeed I shall; you shall be the first one to know. My mind is really, you know, _almost_ made up."