Still--let us hope we have the right one, now." Mrs.Hartwell raised her eyebrows.
"Well, my dear, I'm not so confident of that.

_My_ choice has been and always will be--William." Billy bit her lip again.

This time her brown eyes flashed a little.
"Is that so?
But you see, after all, _you_ aren't making the--the choice." Billy spoke lightly, gayly; and she ended with a bright little laugh, as if to hide any intended impertinence.
It was Mrs.Hartwell's turn to bite her lip--and she did it.
"So it seems," she rejoined frigidly, after the briefest of pauses.
It was not until they were on their way to Corey Hill some time later that Mrs.Hartwell turned with the question: "Cyril is to be married in church, I suppose ?" "No.

They both preferred a home wedding." "Oh, what a pity! Church weddings are so attractive!" "To those who like them," amended Billy in spite of herself.
"To every one, I think," corrected Mrs.Hartwell, positively.
Billy laughed.

She was beginning to discern that it did not do much harm--nor much good--to disagree with her guest.
"It's in the evening, then, of course ?" pursued Mrs.Hartwell.
"No; at noon." "Oh, how could you let them ?" "But they preferred it, Mrs.Hartwell." "What if they did ?" retorted the lady, sharply.