The chin was just as stubborn, but the smiling lips above it graced it with an air of charming concession.
"There, there, dear," coaxed the mistress of Hillside, "don't fret.
Besides, I'm sure I should think you, of all people, would want your guests _fed!_" "But this is so elaborate, from what I hear." "Nonsense! Not a bit of it." "Rosa says there'll be salads and cakes and ices--and I don't know what all." Billy looked concerned.
"Well, of course, Marie, if you'd _rather_ have oatmeal and doughnuts," she began with kind solicitude; but she got no farther.
"Billy!" besought the bride elect.

"Won't you be serious?
And there's the cake in wedding boxes, too." "I know, but boxes are so much easier and cleaner than--just fingers," apologized an anxiously serious voice.
Marie answered with an indignant, grieved glance and hurried on.
"And the flowers--roses, dozens of them, in December! Billy, I can't let you do all this for me." "Nonsense, dear!" laughed Billy.

"Why, I love to do it.

Besides, when you're gone, just think how lonesome I'll be! I shall have to adopt somebody else then--now that Mary Jane has proved to be nothing but a disappointing man instead of a nice little girl like you," she finished whimsically.
Marie did not smile.

The frown still lay between her delicate brows.
"And for my trousseau--there were so many things that you simply would buy!" "I didn't get one of the egg-beaters," Billy reminded her anxiously.
Marie smiled now, but she shook her head, too.
"Billy, I cannot have you do all this for me." "Why not ?" At the unexpectedly direct question, Marie fell back a little.
"Why, because I--I can't," she stammered.