Just why it took her so long to put on a ridiculously tiny hat and why she left three lace-edged handkerchiefs soaking the scarf upon the dresser, is nobody's business but Thelma's.
That young lady was cool and undisturbed when at length she appeared upon the driveway. "But where is she?" she asked before entering the car.
You'll see her soon," he promised. "It was a fancy of hers to meet us at the bungalow. Perhaps she already there."
But no one appeared on the wide porch when they reached their destination.
"Never mind," he said, "we'll look through the house first. You will see that I have adopted some of your ideas. You have most unusual and charming ideas about building. With a brother's nerve I calmly swiped many of them."
Many of them! She caught her breath resentfully. The house was the house of her own dreams conveyed to Ted in scraps at various times and places. All though the building it was the same until they came to the sewing room which opened off of the curving front porch.
"I believe I hear something," he said eagerly. "Will you wait here until I see?"
She nodded dumbly and he slipped through the door they had left open. She crossed to an opposite window and waited, blinded and deaf and oblivious, until he grasped her arm gently.
"Come," he said, "and meet my bride-to-be."
Perhaps if he had relaxed his hold upon her arm she could not have crossed the room but she started bravely. Through the doorway he piloted her.
"My fiancee," he said proudly.
Thelma shuddered and then with a tremendous effort lifted her head.
"Why-y-y! she stammered.
"My fiancee, Thelma," he said again, reprovingly.
Her hand flew to her heart and the figure before her imitated the action. Then with a little cry she crumpled down--into the arms of Ted Stover. For there was no one in the room--nothing but the long, swinging built-in mirror.