"Next to a honeymoon I think a vacation out in Bellaire is about the best," decided Grace. "And, pray, what is your idea of a honeymoon?" inquired Cleo. "Well, it's something like a trip to Europe in one way, because it's hard to arrange; that is, a real honeymoon is, and it's almost as thrilling because it's so entirely different. Sister Mabel is trunking what she can't get in her hope chest, and she says a wedding is the one unlimited wonder of life." "But why the trip to Europe?" persisted the logical Cleo. "Oh, you don't have to be so exact," retorted Grace, unwilling to show defeat. "I was only thinking that when some one goes away-far away, all sorts of nice things are said about them; and when a girl gets married her maw" (and Grace drawled the ma) "says she has been a perfect daughter." "Oh, I see," Cleo replied, somewhat satisfied at the diagraming, "and our vacation out at Bellaire is to be a cross between a wedding and a trip to Europe. I'll take the wedding wing, please," and she hummed the march that always echoes orange blossoms.