l.

"Hallo, Dorothy! So you've sneaked away too?" said Hope.

"I don't call it sneaking," returned Dorothy. "Why shouldn't we come?"

"Yes, why shouldn't we, indeed?" echoed Blanche.

"No reason at all, my dear," observed Hope, "except that Miss Tempest
might happen to make a bother about it if she heard. One never knows
quite what she'll take it into her head to say or do."

"Then she mustn't hear."

"Right you are! We certainly won't tell of each other."

"Rather not!"

"Will you promise too, Dorothy, never to breathe one single word that
you've seen Blanche and me here?"

"Of course! Do you think I'm likely to go telling tales to Miss
Tempest?"

"Well, no; but you'll promise not to tell any body, not even the girls?"

"All serene!"

"On your honour?" said Hope, catching her by the arm.

"On my anything you like," answered Dorothy, who, seeing Bertha Warren
and Addie Parker coming up, was in a hurry to get away.

She was anxious to try to obtain a place in the church, so that she
might see something of the ceremony. All the seats seemed taken as she
entered, but she marched confidently up the aisle, hoping to find room
farther on. She was stopped directly, however, by the verger.

"What name, please? Are you one of the Miss Guntons?" he enquired.

"No," stammered Dorothy, "I--only----"

"Then you must go out," he interrupted tartly. "These pews is for the
invited guests--general public's only allowed in the free seats, and
they're full up long ago."

Much abashed, Dorothy beat a hasty retreat, after having caught a brief
vision of elegantly-dressed guests and beautiful rows of palms and
chrysanthemums in pots. Evidently there was no room for schoolgirls. She
was annoyed with herself for having ventured there. Her pride hated
rebuffs, and the old verger's manner made her feel hot and
uncomfortable. Several people in the pews had turned to look at her. No
doubt they considered her an impertinent intruder. Her cheeks flamed at
the idea. The churchyard seemed almost as full as the church, though the
crowd there was of a totally different description. The possibility of
witnessing the wedding had attracted a motley assemblage--nurses with
babies and small children, errand boys, hatless women from back streets,
dressmakers' assistants who had come to see the fashions, and a number
of those idlers who are always to be found ready to run and look at
anything in the way of a show, be it a marriage, a fune