White,” the lady in black satin remarked. That capitaine has arranged it all. Her eyes were wide open with amazement. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. So it does.
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