Part 8 (1/2)

”Yes,” a.s.sented Sue, obediently; ”yes, I--I suppose we have.” Her eyes fell before her mother's look. Again it was as if a small child had been surprised in naughtiness.

Now from the Church sounded the voices of the choir. The burring bell had summoned to more, and still more, practice of tomorrow's music, and a score of boys, their song coming loud and clear from the near distance, were rendering the Wedding March from ”Lohengrin.”

A curious, and instant, change came over Farvel. His laughter stopped; he retreated, and fumbled with one hand at his hair. ”Oh, that--that----” he murmured under his breath.

”Alan!” Wallace went to him.

”It's nothing,” protested Farvel. ”Nothing.”

Sue made as if to open the library door. It was plain that, ill or troubled, Farvel was eager to get away.

”Wait,” said her mother.

Wallace turned the clergyman toward the door leading to the Church.

”Come, old man,” he urged. ”Let's go right in. That's best.”

Farvel permitted himself to be half-led. But he paused part way to look back at the quartette of ladies standing, silent and watchful, at the center of the room. ”It's all right,” he a.s.sured them, smiling wanly at Hattie. He tried to speak casually. ”Let me know when you're ready to rehea.r.s.e.” Wallace had reached out to draw Farvel through the door. It closed behind them.

Sue made as if to follow the two men. But once more her mother interposed. ”Susan!” And then in explanation, ”I wouldn't--they'll want to be alone.”

Now, as if silenced by an order, the choir stopped in the middle of a bar.

”Well!” exclaimed Mrs. Balcome. ”Positively tragic!” She gathered up the dog and sank upon the sofa.

”Of course, you saw what did it,” observed Mrs. Milo.

”What?” asked Hattie, almost challengingly.

”The wedding-march.” And when that had sunk in, ”Wallace knew. Didn't you hear what he said? He wanted Mr. Farvel to--to conquer the--the--whatever it was he felt. I'll wager” (Mrs. Milo permitted herself to ”wager” under the stress of excitement, never to ”bet”) ”that he's broken his engagement, or something of that sort.”

Hattie stared resentfully.

”Engagement?” repeated Sue.

Mrs. Milo's blue eyes sparkled with triumph. ”Well, it wouldn't surprise me,” she declared.

Sue's color deepened. ”Why, of course, he isn't,” she answered defensively. ”He'd say so--he wouldn't keep a matter like that secret.

It isn't like him--a whole year.”

Her mother smiled at her fondly. ”There's nothing to get excited about, my daughter.”

”But, mother, it's absurd.”

Mrs. Milo strolled to a chair and seated herself with elaborate care.

”Well, anyway,” she argued, ”he carries a girl's picture in his pocket.”

In the pause that followed, a telephone began to ring persistently from the direction of the library. But Sue seemed not to hear it. ”A picture,” she said slowly. And as her mother a.s.sented, smiling, ”And--and what did he say when he showed it to you?”

Mrs. Milo started. ”Well,--er--the fact is,” she admitted, ”he didn't exactly show it to me.”