"Miss Unity, don' you mek my chile cry on her weddin' mahnin'! Hit ain't lucky to cry befo' de ring's on!" "I'm not crying, Mammy," said Jacqueline.

"I wish that I could cry.

It is you, Unity, that are like a princess in your rose and silver, with your dear red lips, and your dear black eyes! Isn't she lovely, Mammy ?" She came close to her cousin and pinned a small brooch in the misty folds above the white bosom.

"This is my gift--it is mother's pearl brooch.

Oh, Unity, don't think too ill of me!" "Think ill!" cried Unity, with spirit.