picnic dress on.

"There!" she said, as she stepped before the mirror.

"Ah, that's it, that's it! I give in," he exclaimed, regarding her
ecstatically. "How pretty you were that day! I'd never seen you so pretty
before. Do you remember that was the day I kissed you first? I should
never have dared to. I just had to--I couldn't help it."

"So I believe you said at the time," observed Madeline, dryly. "It does
make me not so bad," she admitted, inspecting herself with a critical
air. "I really don't believe you could help it. I ought not to have been
so hard on you, poor boy. There! there! I didn't mean that. Don't! Here
comes mother."

Mrs. Brand entered the room, bringing a huge pasteboard box.

"Oh, she's got my wedding dress! Haven't you, mother?" exclaimed
Madeline, pouncing on the box. "Henry, you might as well go right home. I
can't pay any more attention to you to-night. There's more important
business."

"But I want to see you with it on," he demurred.

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Very much?"