dazzling matrimonial chances must not venture to say a word. She who might have queened it among the highest in the land merely by substituting the big word "Yes" for the small word "No" must forever hold her peace on this vexed subject. But Mary was in such wild spirits at the announcement in the Morning Post that she refused to be browbeaten. She continued to sing the praises of "Charley" in spite of the clear annoyance of Mrs. Wren. The good lady was unable to realize that the girl was trying with might and main to stifle an ache that was almost intolerable.
"What ho!" Milly suddenly exclaimed, withdrawing a slightly retroussé but decidedly charming nose from Page 5 of the Morning Post, "so they've actually made Uncle Jacob a Bart."
"My dear, you mean a baronet. Who?—made who a baronet?" Mrs. Wren laid down an imperious egg-*spoon.
"Jacob Cheesewright, Esquire, M.P. for Bradbury, a rich manufacturer and prominent philanthropist. He's in the honor list just issued by the King's government."
"Hooray!" Mary indulged in an enthusiastic wave of the tea-pot which happily was rather less than half full. "Which means, my dear Miss Wren, that one of these days there's just a chance of your being my lady."
"As though that could possibly matter!" cried Milly upon a note of the finest scorn imaginable.
"As though that could possibly matter!" Mary's reproduction of the note in question was so humorously exact that it sent her victim into a fit of laughter.
But Mrs. Wren had her word to say on the subject. In
