"You felt sorry--_sorry_ for _my niece_?" The voice was so very angry this time that Genevieve trembled. She was sure now that it was bad--this thing she was doing--that good might come. But she kept bravely on. "Why, yes, of course; all of us girls were sorry for her. You know Elsie does so love new dresses, and of course she doesn't have them very often. Last summer, when she was feeling so bad over her chambray, I--I offered her one of mine, but--" "You--you offered my niece one of _your_ dresses?" gasped Mrs. Gale. "Yes, but she wouldn't take it; and, of course, _that_ wasn't _new_, either," finished Genevieve, with what she hoped would pass for a light laugh as she turned away. Behind her, for a moment, there was an ominous silence. Then a very quiet voice said: "Thank you; but I hardly think my niece needs one of your dresses--yet, Miss Genevieve." Genevieve fled then, ashamed, and very near to crying. "I wouldn't have said it, of course," she whispered to herself as she stumbled back to the sitting-room; "I wouldn't have said it if the Gales had been poor and _couldn't_ have given Elsie new things to wear once in a while!" In the Chronicles of the Hexagon Club a fortnight later, it was Elsie Martin who wrote the account of Miss Sally's wedding. She wrote as follows: "I had a beautiful white dress for Miss Sally's wedding--a brand-new one. All of us girls wore white and looked so pretty--I mean, the rest looked pretty, of course. Miss Sally was married the tenth of April. It was quite a warm day, and I was so glad I did not have to wear my brown silk. Aunt Kate says I needn't wear it anywhere if I don't want to--and after all her work, too! I don't know what has got into Aunt Kate, anyway, lately. She doesn't seem half so interested in making over things, and I have three other brand-new dresses, a pink-sprigged muslin, and--but, dear me! This isn't telling about Miss Sally's wedding one bit. "She was married at four o'clock, and looked too sweet for anything in light gray silk with a pink carnation in her hair. Everybody went, and wore their best things and looked very nice. We had sandwiches and chicken salad and olives and three kinds of cake and ice cream for refreshments. The ice cream was the brick kind, different colors, like lovely striped ribbon. "At six o'clock they started for Boston to begin their journey West, and we all stood on the steps and gave them a lovely send-off with rice and old shoes. Just at the last minute Tilly says, 'Let's give her our Texas yell, and end with "Miss Sally,"' and we did. And everybody laughed and clapped. But not until the carriage drove off did we suddenly remember that she wasn't 'Miss Sally' at all any more, and we felt ashamed. "And that's all--except that Miss Sally's going-away gown was gray, too." CHAPTER XXV "WHEN SUNBRIDGE WENT TO TEXAS"