"I take it, Miss Mack, that your very complimentary remarks refer to my magazine notes; but just let me assure you that this prize essay is quite another matter. _That_ isn't _printed_!" "Then you _are_ going to try?--of course you are," interposed Bertha. Genevieve laughed lightly as she reached for a piece of fudge. "I suppose so. I'm afraid everybody will expect me to. Aunt Julia has already expressed her opinion of the matter." * * * * * February passed, and March came. A new topic of conversation now arose, specially of interest to the Hexagon Club. Miss Sally was to be married early in April, and the Happy Hexagons were to be bridesmaids. Naturally, even the new prize contest had to step one side for that month, in the minds of the six joyously excited girls. It was on a particularly windy Saturday toward the end of the month, that Cordelia literally blew up to the Kennedys' front door and rang the bell. Genevieve herself, passing through the hall, opened the door. "Br-r-r!" she laughed, as she banged the door shut after admitting the whirling draperies from which Cordelia's anxious little face finally emerged. "Why, Cordelia!" "Yes, I know; I'm going to be at the club this afternoon, of course," panted Cordelia; "but this is for something I wanted to say to you--and I knew there wouldn't be a chance this afternoon. It--it's private, Genevieve." "Good! I love secrets. Come into the sitting room. There's no one there this morning. Now, what is it?" she demanded, as soon as Cordelia's coat was off, and they were comfortably seated. "It--I suppose you might call it missionary work, Genevieve," smiled Cordelia, wistfully. "_More_ missionary work? Who in the world wants to go to Texas now?" laughed Genevieve. "Nobody. It isn't Texas at all. It's--Elsie." "Elsie!" "Yes. Of course, dear, I don't know as you can do anything; but you've done so many things, and I'm sure if you could, it _would_ be missionary work of the very nicest kind." "What _are_ you talking about?" Cordelia drew a long sigh. "I'll tell you. You know the rest of us bridesmaids are all going to wear white, but--but Elsie's got to wear Fannie's brown silk." "I know," nodded Genevieve. "Elsie told me." "But, Genevieve, just think--brown silk for a bridesmaid at a wedding, when all the rest of us wear white! Besides, Elsie says brown is so hot-looking for April. She feels awfully about it." "Can't she do something? I should think she'd tell her aunt." "She has. But her aunt doesn't seem to understand. She says that the brown silk is whole and good, and far too valuable to throw away; and that it's all just Elsie's notion that she'd rather wear white." "Oh, but if she'd only understand!"