"That's it precisely, Mr. Van Pycke. I fancy you know the ladies and gentlemen quite well. They treated her abominably last winter. She didn't mind it very much, as you know. She's not that sort. People _did_ talk about her, but her real friends remained true. She thought it would be splendid to have her enemies here in just this way. With the understanding, of course, that the whole story is to get into the newspapers."
He stared harder than ever. "Into the newspapers? Good heavens, you don't mean to say she's going to let the papers in on this?"
"Certainly," she said very quietly. "Why not? It will make a beautiful story. People invite monkeys to dinner and the papers are not denied the facts, are they? They have banquets for dogs and picnics for cats, don't they? Some one gave a fashionable supper the other night for the three-legged girl in the circus, and some one else followed it up with a tea for the four-legged rooster. The papers were full of details. Mrs. Scooper and many other ladies gave dinners and balls for a woman who had been the favorite of nearly all the masculine crowned heads in Europe, and the richly cultivated Mrs. Rankling once included in the list of invitations to an author's reading the names of J. Fenimore Cooper and Nathaniel Hawthorne. I don't see why Mrs. De Foe's dummies are worse than the freaks I've mentioned. Heaven knows they're respectable."
"I like your enthusiasm," he said, but still a little shaken by the intelligence.
"Mrs. Sco--Mrs. De Foe is the best, the dearest friend I have in the world," said the girl, simply.
Young Mr. Van Pycke was very tactful. He appeared properly impressed. At the same time he looked at her with new interest. She seemed very young to be calling the former Mrs. Scoville her dearest friend. Somehow, her face was vaguely familiar. He wondered where he had seen a photograph of her.
"She's a terribly good sort," he agreed, and he meant it. "But, I say, this is ripping! Talk about monkey dinners and--why, there's never been anything like this! Dummy guests at one's own wedding! It's rich! It's--"
She held up her hand, gentle reproof in her eyes. "I can't say that I like it, Mr. Van Pycke. I'm only saying I approve of it because she was bound to have her own way in spite of the rest of us. But, to be perfectly honest, I think that a wedding is something beautifully sacred. It should be held sacred in every respect. It seems dreadful--But, there, I won't say any more. It's all right, I know. Besides, it was not my wedding."