ral brooch; Marcus
Schouler, his arms folded, his brows bent, grand and gloomy; Heise the
harness-maker, in yellow gloves, intently studying the pattern of the
matting; and Owgooste, in his Fauntleroy "costume," stupefied and a
little frightened, rolling his eyes from face to face. Selina sat at
the parlor melodeon, fingering the keys, her glance wandering to the
chenille portieres. She stopped playing as McTeague and Old Grannis
entered and took their places. A profound silence ensued. Uncle
Oelbermann's shirt front could be heard creaking as he breathed. The
most solemn expression pervaded every face.

All at once the portieres were shaken violently. It was a signal. Selina
pulled open the stops and swung into the wedding march.

Trina entered. She was dressed in white silk, a crown of orange blossoms
was around her swarthy hair--dressed high for the first time--her veil
reached to the floor. Her face was pink, but otherwise she was calm.
She looked quietly around the room as she crossed it, until her glance
rested on McTeague, smiling at him then very prettily and with perfect
self-possession.

She was on her father's arm. The twins, dressed exactly alike, walked
in front, each carrying an enormous bouquet of cut flowers in a
"lace-paper" holder. Mrs. Sieppe followed in the rear. She was crying;
her handkerchief was rolled into a wad. From time to time she looked
at the train of Trina's dress through her tears. Mr. Sieppe marched his
daughter to the exact middle of the floor, wheeled at right angles, and
brought her up to the minister. He stepped back three paces, and
stood planted upon one of his chalk marks, his face glistening with
perspiration.

Then Trina and the dentist were married. The guests stood in constrained
attitudes, looking furtively out of the corners of their eyes. Mr.
Sieppe never moved a muscle; Mrs. Sieppe cried into her handkerchief
all the time. At the melodeon Selina played "Call Me Thine Own," very
softly, the tremulo stop pulled out. She looked over her shoulder from
time to time. Between the pauses of the music one could hear the low
tones of the minister, the responses of the participants, and the
suppressed sounds of Mrs. Sieppe's weeping. Outside the noises of the
street rose to the windows in muffled undertones, a cable car rumbled
past, a newsboy went by chanting the evening papers; from somewhere in
the building itself came a persistent noise of sawing.

Trina and McTeague knelt