cards of invitation, and had come as a sort of lark to kill time on
a wet evening.

The ushers wandered dismally up and down, stretching their hands
nervously as if unused to gloves. Presently they fell back, and the
organ, in the hands of an amateur performer and an inadequate blower,
began to chirp and hoot merrily, by which we knew the bridal party was
about to appear.

The ushers came first, divided, and disappeared successfully in the
shadows, on either side of the chancel steps. A long wait and then Marie
Penney followed, walking alone, as maid of honour; she had insisted upon
having plenty of room, as she said so few people walked well that they
spoiled her gait. Next came the six bridesmaids on a gallop, then Papa
Penney and the bride. He walked along at a jog trot, and he looked
furtively about as if for a loophole of escape. As for poor Mrs. Penney,
instead of being seated in the front pew before the procession entered,
she was entirely forgotten in the excitement, and stood trembling near
the door, until some one drew her into a seat in neighbourly sympathy.

The clergyman stood waiting, the bridesmaids grouped themselves behind
papa, so that there was no retreat, but where was the groom and the best
man? One, two, three minutes passed, but no sign. He had been directed to
the vestry door as the bridal party drove up. Could he suddenly have
changed his mind, and disappeared?

The silence was awful, the Ponsonby girls giggled aloud, and finally got
into such gales of laughter that I was ashamed. The organ had dropped
into the customary groaning undertone that is meant, I suppose, to give
courage to the nervous and weak-voiced during the responses.

* * * * *

Outside the church, in the rear, two men in evening dress might have been
seen blundering about in the dark, vainly trying to find an open door,
for besides the door to the vestry there were three others close
together, one opening into the little chantry, one the Sunday-school
room, and one into the cellar. They battered and pulled and beat to no
purpose, until a mighty pound forced one in, and the two men found
themselves flying down a flight of steps, and landing in a heap of coal.

Dazed, and not a little bruised, the groom struck a match, and looked
about; the best man had sprained his ankle, and said so in language
unbefitting the location, but Liberty Middleton arose superior to the
coal. Judging by the music