Monte had risen early and gone out and bought her violets again. When she came in, he handed them to her, and she buried her face in their dewy fragrance. It was good to have some one think of just such little attentions. Then, too, his boyish enthusiasm swept her off her guard. He was so eager and light-hearted this morning that she found herself breaking into a laugh. She was still laughing when he brought back to her last night's discussion. "Well, have you decided to marry me?" he demanded. She shook her head, her face still buried in the violets. "What's worrying you about it?" he asked. "You, Monte," she answered. "I? Well, that isn't much. I looked up the time-tables, and we could take the six-ten to-night if you were ready." "I could n't possibly be ready," she replied decidedly. "To-morrow, then?" When he insisted upon being definite, the proposition sounded a great deal more absurd than when he allowed it to be indefinite. She was still hesitating when Marie appeared. "A telephone for mademoiselle," she announced. Monte heard her startled exclamation from the next room. He hurried to the door. She saw him, and, placing her hand over the telephone, turned excitedly. "It's Teddy again," she trembled. "Let me talk to him," he commanded. "He says he does n't believe in our--our engagement." "We're to be married to-morrow?" he asked quickly. [Illustration: "We're to be married to-morrow?"] "Oh!" "It's the only way to get rid of him." "Then--" "To-morrow?" Catching her breath, she nodded. He took the receiver. "This is Covington," he said. "Miss Stockton and I are to be married to-morrow. Get that? . . . Well, keep hold of it, because the moment I 'm her husband--" Following an oath at the other end, Monte heard the click of the receiver as it was snapped up. "That settles it very nicely," he smiled. CHAPTER IX BLUE AND GOLD Marjory was to be married on June eighteenth, at eleven o'clock, in the chapel of the English Congregational Church. At ten o'clock of that day she was in her room before the mirror, trying to account for her heightened color. Marie had just left her in despair and bewilderment, after trying to make her look as bridelike as possible when she did not wish to look bridelike. Marie had wished to do her hair in some absurd new fashion for the occasion. "But, Marie," she had explained, "nothing is to be changed. Therefore why should I change my appearance?" "Mademoiselle to be a bride--and nothing changed?" Marie had cried. "Nothing about me; nothing about Mr. Covington. We are merely to be married, that is all--as a matter of convenience." "Mademoiselle will see," Marie had answered cryptically. "You will see yourself," Marjory had laughed.