semblage. Three figures in the long
advancing line of the bridal party held the attention of observers. Two
were the bride and her brother. The third, stalking behind her, with her
train grasped in his tiny fists, his round brown eyes staring straight
ahead, and his fluffy brown hair flying out as if swept backward by an
eternal breeze, was obviously the Infant Samuel Mrs. Lytton had
mentioned.

From a rear pew the Infant's mother watched her offspring with pride and
shuddering apprehension. It was quite on the cards that he might
suddenly decide to leave the procession and undertake a brief side
excursion into the pews. But Samuel had been assured that he was "taking
a walk," and as taking a walk happened to be his favorite pastime he
kept manfully to this new form of diversion, even though it had features
that did not strongly appeal to him. His short legs wabbled, and his
tiny arms ached under the light weight of the bridal train, but
Something would happen if he let that train drop. He did not know quite
what this Something would be, but he abysmally inferred that it would be
extremely unpleasant. He held grimly to his burden.

Suddenly he forgot it. The air was full of wonderful sounds such as he
had never heard before. His eyes grew larger. His mouth formed the "O"
that expressed his deepest wonder. He longed to stop and find out where
the sounds came from, but the train drew him on and on. With an
unconscious sigh he accompanied the train; bad as things were, they
might have been worse, for he knew that somewhere in advance of him,
lost in a mass of white stuff, was the "Babs" he adored.

When the train stopped, he stopped. In response to an urgent suggestion
from some one behind him, he dropped it. In obedience to an equally
urgent inner prompting, he sat down on it and gazed around. The walk had
been rather a long one. Now the big house he was in was very still, save
for one voice, saying something to Babs. It was all strange and
unfamiliar, and Babs seemed far away. Nothing and nobody looked natural.
Samuel became increasingly doubtful about the pleasure of this walk. The
corners of his mouth went down.

A flower fell into his lap, and looking up he saw Sonya Orleneff smiling
at him. Even Sonya was a new Sonya, emerging from what Samuel dimly felt
to be pink clouds. But the eyes were hers, and the smile was hers, and
it was plain that she expected him to play with the pink flower. He
pulled it to pieces, s