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Reed, Myrtle, 1874-1911

"Old Rose and Silver"

"
"Really?" cried Rose, with well-assumed astonishment. "Come here and let
me kiss the bride-to-be. You must make him very happy," she said, then
added, softly: "I pray that you may."
"Everybody seems to think of him and not of me," Isabel returned, a
little fretfully.
"That's what Aunt Francesca said, and Allison's father seemed to think
more about my making Allison happy than he did about my being happy
myself."
"That's because the only way to win happiness is to give it," put in
Madame. "The more we give, the more we have."
Conversation lagged at dinner, and became, as often, a monologue by
Madame. While they were finishing their coffee, they heard Allison's
well-known step outside.
"I wonder why he had to come so early," complained Isabel. "I wanted to
change my dress. I didn't have time before dinner."
"He'll never know it," Madame assured her. "We'll excuse you dear, if
you're through. Don't keep him waiting."
When the dining-room door closed, Rose turned to Madame. "Did I--"
"Most wonderfully."
"But the hardest part is still to come," she breathed, sadly.


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