Philip’s mother who, although she would have preferred to wear black as a sign of mourning for her son, had finally decided that it would be too much of a good thing if all four of the chief relatives were attired as for a funeral, and was dressed in pale blue, becoming to her rosy checks and her white hair and her blue eyes, which had not been reddened but made only prettily clouded by the incessant stream of tears they had released ever since the engagement was announced. She had lost her appetite, had been unable to sleep a night through, and had not appeared at any of the pre-nuptial parties. It was said by her husband that her heart was temporarily “out of kilter.” She had several times written Hopestill begging her to come to Concord: “We have so much to talk about,” she wrote. “I feel there are many things you must know about Philip which only I can tell you. The hastiness of your wedding has prevented us from getting really well acquainted, but perhaps we can make up for lost time if only you will agree to spend two or three days with me.” Hopestill, either because she was harassed by the business which the wedding involved or because she could think of no way to refuse the invitation graciously, did not answer, a breach of manners that had already had serious consequences. The elder Mrs. McAllister had told the story everywhere and, making use of her daughter’s unwittingly accurate phrase, repeated often, “The wedding is too hasty for me. Marian and I both wish they’d wait until June. It is breaking Philip’s mother’s heart that she can’t have a garden party for them. And since the poor thing’s ill now, she can’t even have an indoor party for them. I do think it’s inconsiderate.” The heart-sufferer, through a supreme sacrifice of her health, had managed to come to the wedding, though she would not be able to come to the breakfast. Her excuses, “doctor’s orders,” had been made through her husband this morning, as if she could not bear even to speak to Miss Pride.