ured the Signora, pressing my hand
as I settled myself down. "I should so--so love to be married."

"Me darling," whispered the O'Kelly, seizing her other hand and kissing
it covertly behind his open Prayer Book, "perhaps ye will be--one day."

The Signora through her tears smiled at him, but with a sigh shook her
head.

Mrs. Peedles, clad, so far as the dim November light enabled me to
judge, in the costume of Queen Elizabeth--nothing regal; the sort of
thing one might assume to have been Her Majesty's second best, say third
best, frock--explained that weddings always reminded her how fleeting a
thing was love.

"The poor dears!" she sobbed. "But there, there's no telling. Perhaps
they'll be happy. I'm sure I hope they may be. He looks harmless."

Jarman, stretching out a hand to me from the other side of Mrs. Peedles,
urged me to cheer up. "Don't wear your 'eart upon your sleeve," he
advised. "Try and smile."

In the vestry I met old friends. The maternal Sellars, stouter than
ever, had been accommodated with a chair--at least, I assumed so, she
being in a sitting posture; the chair itself was not in evidence. She
greeted me with more graciousness than I had expected, enquiring after
my health with pointedness and an amount of tender solicitude that,
until the explanation broke upon me, somewhat puzzled me.

Mr. Reginald Clapper was a small but energetic gentleman, much
impressed, I was glad to notice, with a conviction of his own good
fortune. He expressed the greatest delight at being introduced to me,
shook me heartily by the hand, and hoped we should always be friends.

"Won't be my fault if we're not," he added. "Come and see us whenever
you like." He repeated this three times. I gathered the general
sentiment to be that he was acting, if anything, with excess of
generosity.

Mrs. Reginald Clapper, as I was relieved to know she now was, received
my salute to a subdued murmur of applause. She looked to my eyes
handsomer than when I had last seen her, or maybe my taste was growing
less exacting. She also trusted she might always regard me as a friend.
I replied that it would be my hope to deserve the honour; whereupon she
kissed me of her own accord, and embracing her mother, shed some tears,
explaining the reason to be that everybody was so good to her.

Brother George, less lank than formerly, hampered by a pair of enormous
white kid gloves, superintended my signing of the register, whispering
to me s