It didn't seem right to her that the originator of the idea couldn't take part in it.
"Couldn't you play the drum ?" she suddenly asked.
"Why, so I could!" beamed Mrs.Kelly in rare delight.

"Do you mind then if I start a subscription for the instruments ?" "No; I'll do that, if you'll promise to play the drum." "It's a promise," agreed Mrs.Kelly, and when she reached the hall outside and saw the size of Mary's subscription she joyfully smote an imaginary sheepskin, "Boom....

Boom....

Boom-boom-boom...!" That is the week that Wally was married--with a ceremony that Helen had determined should be the social event of the year.
She was busy with her plans for weeks, making frequent trips to New York and Boston in the building up of her trousseau, arranging the details of the breakfast, making preparations for the decorations at the church and at the house on the hill, preparing and revising her list of those to be invited, ordering the cake and the boxes, attending to the engraving, choosing the music, keeping in touch with the bridesmaids and their dresses.
"Why, she's as busy as I am," thought Mary one day, in growing surprise at Helen's knowledge and ability; and dimly she began to see that in herself and Helen were embodied two opposite ideas of feminine activity.
"Of course she believes her way is the best," continued Mary thoughtfully, "just the same as I believe mine is.

But I can't help thinking that it's best to be doing something useful, something that really makes a difference in the world--so that at the end of every week we can say to ourselves, 'Well, I did this' or 'I did that'-- 'I haven't lived this week for nothing....'" Mary started dreaming then, and the next day when she accompanied Helen up the aisle of St.Thomas's as maid of honour, her eyes went dreamier still.