Tomorrow," said Susan.

"I can finish in the morning.

I'm going to wear my white dress with embroidery, and it's got to be pressed--and that means I must do it myself." "Poor Sam! And I suppose, when he calls, you'll come down as if you'd put on any old thing and didn't care whether he came or not.

And you'll have primped for an hour--and he, too--shaving and combing and trying different ties." Susan sparkled at the idea of a young man, and _such_ a young man, taking trouble for her.

Ruth, pale, kept her eyes down and her lips compressed.