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           Shewasjustamonthshortofseventeen,andforthefirsttimeinhislifePaddyfeltreallyold.Butshewasthetreasureofhisheart;nothingshouldspoilherfirstgrown-upparty.

           Theywalkedtothehomesteadslowly,fartooearlyforthefirstguests;theyweretodinewithMaryCarsonandbeonhandtoreceivewithher.Noonewanteddirtyshoes,butamilethroughDroghedadustmeantapauseinthecookhousetopolishshoes,brushdustfromtrouserbottomsandtrailinghems.

           FatherRalphwasinhissoutaneasusual;nomaleeveningfashioncouldhavesuitedhimhalfsowellasthatseverelycutrobewithitsslightlyflaringlines,theinnumerablelittleblackclothbuttonsupitsfrontfromhemtocollar,thepurple-edgedmonsignor’ssash.

           MaryCarsonhaschosentowearwhitesatin,whitelaceandwhiteostrichfeathers.Feestaredatherstupidly,shockedoutofherhabitualindifference.Itwassoincongruouslybridal,sogrosslyunsuitable—whyonearthhadshetrickedherselfoutlikearaddledoldspinsterplayactingatbeingmarried?Shehadgotveryfatoflate,whichdidn’timprovematters.

           ButPaddyseemedtoseenothingamiss;hestrodeforwardtotakehissister’shands,beaming.Whatadearfellowhewas,thoughtFatherRalphashewatchedthelittlescene,halfamused,halfdetached.

           "Well,Mary!Howfineyoulook!Likeayounggirl!"

           IntruthshelookedalmostexactlylikethatfamousphotographofQueenVictoriatakennotlongbeforeshedied.