Daily Arizona silver belt., 1909-11-18
WHY?
By Elizabeth Thack

The mother s eyes gleamed with ad miration as they took in the picture ''Yes, she murmured, Git is perfect Madam Lefray has certainly surpassed herself. Constance, my daughter, yor will be the beauty"
 For an instant the girl s eyes met he, mother s, then turning to the glass. ex amined herself calmly and critically The gown was perfect. Billowing laces and gleaming satin showed of tho creamy fairness of the complexion. the dazzling whiteness of the beautiful wearer's shoulders. The skirt fell in graceful lines from the corsage-a work of art in itself--ending in train of foamy lace and satin, from beneath which appeared two tiny satin-c clad feet. The soft hair, beautifully waved was dressed low, while single white satin rose was the only head dress. Yes: the dress and the wearer formed a pie, ture that any mother might well be proud of.
 "Oh, t's perfect, quite perfect,'' she exclaimed softly. "How thankful I am that you have inherited my neck and shoulders. And it's to take place tomorrow, Constance, tomorrow. He's sending you the bouquet, is he not2'
 Yes, responded the girl, languid- ly. "Mr. Houghton is sending me the flowers. Lilies, l think"
 Tomorrow, repeated the mother joyfully. She seemed unable to com. pose herself, but futtered about the girl. Tomorrow he is to come for his answer. Oh, Constance, my love, what comfort you have been to me" !" And the sigh was one of grateful ambition, for was not her daughter getting the catch of the season2
 Tomorrow, tomorrow echoed ioy. ously the girl's heart. But there was no sign of this on her face as the maid who had just entered the room, began to unfasten her gown.
 Be careful, be careful. An, let mel There! You may go now, Rose. Con- stance," she added as the maid left the room. "I I'm so glad he came to the point SO soon. Men are so slow, sometimes, especially men with money. It's pity MT. Houghton is so short when you re so tall, " little wistfully, but, more cheerfully, "yOu need not be seen much with him afterward. You don t mind it so very much, do you dear?"
 Constance, seemingly, did not think 1t made much difference about his ap- pearance. The image then in her mind, that of a graceful boyish figure, of a frank, sunburnt fact, with laughing blue eyes, was not faithful picture of the wealthy MT. Houghton.
 My, darling, when shall we an nounce the engagement He dimes here this afternoon. Then the reception. Yes, l shall drop hint there. Then will be the formal announcement. Oh, my dear, what a success you have been! Of course, the photographer, that will take all morning. Then the rousseau. "
 How dreadfully fond of planning ahead! ' cried the girl.
 My dear, it is the only way. Why, l planned this campaign the first week wet met MT. Houghton, and the result has been just as l expected. But you are tired little, you must sleep little; I have a few notes to write.U She kissed Constance fondly, for she did love her beautiful girl, and fiut- tered out of the room.
 The girl threw herself down on the sofa, and leaning back among the gave a sigh of relief, which ended in murmur Tomorrow!' and then her lips curved in a tender smile, chasing away the cold naughty look, of a moment before
 Then she drew from her bosom let ter, which looked worn enough, she had read it and reread it again and again, and now, after pressing it to her lips, she glanced slowly through it, smiling as she read, hapilly. ca # and now, my own little girl, am able to come and claim you, for even your mother, darling, will not object to a real, live earl for a son-in-law, will she now, dearest? Yours for life,
 "DICK." "
 "And tomorrow he will be here. Oh, Dick! and you would never have come at all if-' And now her mind quick y ran over program very different from her mothers. "The title ought to satisfy mother,' she murmured with a happy sigh. "TomorrOw, and I thought it would be years. A knock. Come in" Rose entered softly. "A telegram for you, Miss Constance. " "About the pictures, no doubt" Rose took it languidly, opened it and cad. The room grew dark, the maid s | face seemed far away. Everything | vas black except the telegram, which vas only too distinct-dreadfully dis. inct.
 Malta, December 4.
 "Dick was buried here last Monday. Particulars later. Sent love.
 ''LEATON."
 'TLeaton, '' she repeated aimlessly to