"Do," said Cuthbert, and put his arm round her.

To the dismay of the girls, he swung Elma into the midst of the wedding trousseaux. Boxes were s.n.a.t.c.hed up, tissue paper sent flying in all directions. Every girl in the room screamed maledictions on them both.

This was quite unlike Elma, to be displaying her own feelings at the risk of anything else in the world. They stopped with a wild whirl.

"Elma wanted to dance," said Cuthbert coolly, "and as she hasn't had any exercise lately, I thought it would be good for her. Have some more?"

he asked her.

A demon of delight danced in Elma's eyes.

"Why, certainly," she said politely.

There was no holding them in at all.

Elma had her first real lecture, from Mabel of all people.

"I think it's very inconsiderate of you, Elma--just when we are so busy.

You might arrange to stop fooling with Cuthbert when these things are lying about. It isn't fair of you."

"Oh, Mabs," said Elma, "you don't know! I've been under the clouds so long--thunder clouds, with everything raining down on me, and hardly any sunshine at all. And just at the present moment I'm on top of the clouds, treading on air; I can't describe it. But even although you are so solemn, and Isobel is so vexed, and Jean is so haughty, and Betty is simply vicious, why, even in spite of that, I'd like another dance with Cuthbert."

Her eyes shone. (Oh, what--what was taking place down stairs?)

Cuthbert said "Come on," in a wild way. These spirits had been natural with him just lately.

But this time five girls intervened.

"Not if I know it," said Isobel.

And "Get you to your Adelaide Maud," cried Betty. So there was no more dancing for Elma just then.

"However," said she, "for the first time in my life, I think, I'm really looking forward to Tuesday night." They were to have a dance in honour of Isobel's wedding. "I think that whether Dr. Merryweather is alive or dead, I shall dance the whole evening." She began to adopt Jean's manner. "Do you know," she said to her, "I feel so inspired. I think I could go and compose an anthem!" (What were they saying downstairs?)

"Oh," said Betty. "She said that just before she took ill, you know.

And I lay awake at night thinking she would die. Because I asked you, you know, just in fun, were you going to die because you wanted to write an anthem."

"On the contrary," said Elma, "I now want to write an anthem because I'm about to live."

"Look here, Elma," said Mabel sedately, "if you don't sit down and keep yourself quiet, I shall get Dr. Merryweather to come."

"If he has time," said Isobel drily.

"Time?" asked Mabel.

"Yes, before he gets married to Miss Grace."

That bomb burst itself to silence in the most complete pause that had fallen on the Leighton family for a long time. They began to collect their scattered senses with difficulty. Elma thought, "Mr. Symington in the drawing-room and Miss Grace going to be married! Am I alive or dead?"

"Didn't you notice?" said Isobel's calm voice. "Haven't you seen that Dr. Merryweather's heart is with Miss Grace? You could tell that from the colour of his gloves. Lemon yellow ever since Miss Annie died."

"Oh, Isobel," said Mabel gravely.

Elma remembered her asking, "And Miss Grace, this man, was he----" and Saunders opening the door and announcing, "Dr. Merryweather." Was this something more than a coincidence, and was Isobel right? Surely Miss Grace would have let her know. Then the certainty that Miss Grace would far more easily let an alien like Isobel know, by reason of her own embarra.s.sment, than a friend like Elma through frank and easy confidence, began to convince her. She heard the gate sing its little song of warning again at that moment. Miss Meredith tripped in.

Miss Meredith!

Elma put her head out at the open window.

"Oh, Miss Meredith, do come upstairs, we've such a lot to show you."

Sarah came safely up. (Oh the relief!) What if she met Mr. Symington, and this new castle of cards came tumbling down to more interference from that quarter. Besides, they were soon going to tea, and Mabel was still unwarned. Elma discreetly hoped that Mabel would not faint. As for herself, her shakiness seemed gone for ever. She was a lion, defending Mabel.

Miss Meredith floated about the room. "Perfectly sweet," she said one minute, and "Isn't it a dream?" the next. (What was Mr. Symington saying in the drawing-room?)

It came alarmingly near tea-time. Elma made everybody prink up a little. "We are all such frights," she said, "and there's some old johnny with papa in the drawing-room."

"I do believe you know who it is," said Betty, "and won't tell us." She was in a suspicious mood with society in general.

"I do," said Elma simply. "It's Mr. Symington."

Mabel did not faint. She was providentially with her back to the others, packing a tulle dress in tissue paper just then, and one has to be very particular with tulle. She was quite collected and calm when she finished. Miss Meredith was the colour of the Liberty green screen behind her. Her energy did not fail her in this crisis however.

"Why, it's nice Mr. Symington comes back," she said. "Is he coming to the wedding?"

"He is," said Elma. "He was my 'particular.' I asked Isobel if I might invite him."

"Who is he anyway?" asked Isobel, patting her hair gently in front of a mirror.

("Oh, Isobel, my friend, if you only knew that," Elma conferred with herself, "you wouldn't perhaps be the centre of attraction to-day.")

"He's a man who's great friends with the pater," said Jean unconcernedly. "He goes abroad a lot and writes up things and develops photos and has a place in Wales."

"A place in Wales, how nice!" said the London girl. "But it isn't the great Mr. Symington, is it?"

"Why, yes, I suppose it must be," said Jean.

"Of course it is," said Miss Meredith, socially active once more. "Mr.

Symington is a very famous young man."

"Good gracious," said the London girl, "my curling tongs at once, please. These surprises are very demoralizing. Look at my hair."

They all made themselves beautiful for "the great Mr. Symington."

Mabel turned a pair of wide eyes on Elma. Elma nodded like a little mother, with a wealth of smiles at her lips. (Oh, Mabel, play up!)

Cuthbert had found his mother coming out of the drawing-room.

"Well, you seem in good spirits," said she,