"So they have dressed you for the occasion, my friend," remarked his
master; "it must recall the days when Mark was at home."

A few minutes later Emma and Frances appeared, looking very demure and
bringing with them Gladys, who, happening in in the afternoon, had been
invited to stay and hear the story. The rest of the party soon followed,
and Mr. Clark's face beamed with pleasure as he stepped briskly about
getting every one seated. The children chose the sofa at the side of the
fireplace, where they sat, three in a row with Frances in the middle,
until Miss Moore begged to know if there was not room for her, and of
course there was.

"I am afraid you are trying to excite our envy, Mr. Clark," Mrs.
Morrison said, touching a little dish of old Wedgwood.

"I have a few odds and ends of things," was his reply; "but most of what
you see belongs to my nephew, Mark Osborne. A great-aunt left him her
property when she died, this house, and a good deal of what Mark himself
disrespectfully calls plunder."

"You have never told us about the Toby jug," put in Frances. "Does that
belong to Mark?"

"No, that is my own, and sometime I'll tell you all I know about it; but
now we want to hear Miss Sherwin's story. That is the first business of
the evening;" and, his guests being seated to his satisfaction, the
Spectacle Man crossed his knees and prepared to listen.

"I am not sure that it is at all interesting," said the young lady, as
all eyes turned toward her. "Shall I read it or tell it?"

"Tell it, please," cried the children in a chorus.

So she began, at first a little timidly, and with a glance now and then
at her paper, but gaining courage as she went on.

"I have called it," she said, "'The Story of the Missing Bridge.'

"Once upon a time a young man set out on a journey. The tender beauty of
the springtime was upon the grass and trees, the wheat fields were
turning from gold to rose, and the sky was a soft, deep blue.

"He was a sturdy young fellow and carried a light heart, as one could
tell from the smile in his eyes and the merry tune he whistled as he
strode along. And he had reason to be happy, for on the next day at
sunset he was to be married to the fairest girl in all the country
round.

"After a time the path he followed left the open fields and entered the
cool, dim forest, where all was so still and peaceful that
involuntarily he changed his tune to one more grave.

"A truly happy heart is cert