“Tell us,” challenged Mrs. Watts. “Who you’re going to marry, now.”

“A man last night.”

There was a gasp from each lady. The possible reality of a lover descended suddenly like a summer hail over their heads. Mrs. Watts stood up and balanced herself.

“One of those show fellows! A musician!” she cried.

Lily looked up in admiration.

“Did he—did he do anything to you?” In the long run, it was still only Mrs. Watts who could take charge.

“Oh, yes’m,” said Lily. She patted the cakes of soap fastidiously with the tips of her small fingers and tucked them in with the washcloth.

“What?” demanded Aimee Slocum, rising up and tottering before her scream. “What?” she called out in the hall.

“Don’t ask her what,” said Mrs. Carson, coming up behind. “Tell me, Lily—just yes or no—are you the same as you were?”

“He had a red coat,” said Lily graciously. “He took little sticks and went ping-pong! ding-dong!”

“Oh, I think I’m going to faint,” said Aimee Slocum, but they said, “No, you’re not.”

“The xylophone!” cried Mrs. Watts. “The xylophone player! Why, the coward, he ought to be run out of town on a rail!”

“Out of town? He is out of town, by now,” cried Aimee. “Can’t you read?—the sign in the café—Victory on the ninth, Como on the tenth? He’s in Como. Como!”

“All right! We’ll bring him back!” cried Mrs. Watts. “He can’t get away from me!”

“Hush,” said Mrs. Carson. “I don’t think it’s any use following that line of reasoning at all. It’s better in the long run for him to be gone out of our lives for good and all. That kind of a man. He was after Lily’s body alone and he wouldn’t ever in this world make the poor little thing happy, even if we went out and forced him to marry her like he ought—at the point of a gun.”

“Still—” began Aimee, her eyes widening.

“Shut up,” said Mrs. Watts. “Mrs. Carson, you’re right, I expect.”

“This is my hope chest—see?” said Lily politely in the pause that followed. “You haven’t even looked at it I’ve already got soap and a washrag. And I have my hat—on. What are you all going to give me?”

“Lily,” said Mrs. Watts, starting over, “we’ll give you lots of gorgeous things if you’ll only go to Ellisville instead of getting married.”

“What will you give me?” asked Lily.

“I’ll give you a pair of hemstitched pillowcases,” said Mrs. Carson.

“I’ll give you a big caramel cake,” said Mrs. Watts.

“I’ll give you a souvenir from Jackson—a little toy bank,” said Aimee Slocum. “Now will you go?”

“No,” said Lily.

“I’ll give you a pretty little Bible with your name on it in real gold,” said Mrs. Carson.