s.' What a strange thing to include in the same
message with the vengeance of the Lord! It makes blues and dullness seem
so important. It doesn't say anything here about Christ's coming to heal
bodily suffering or sin, and it does explicitly say he is to cure the
blues. Isn't that interesting?"

Her walk had brought her to the first of the line of day-coaches by this
time, and she glanced up at the listless faces leaned against the dirty
window-panes. As she passed, each pair of eyes rested wearily on her
figure. Suddenly a thought struck her. Blues and dullness! Where were
they ever more to the fore than here? She entered the car impulsively
and stood looking people over. She spoke to the nearest woman.

"It's a nuisance having to wait so, isn't it? Wouldn't you like to come
out for a little walk?"

"No," snapped the woman, "I wouldn't." Alice flushed, then smiled and
went on down the aisle. Evidently her mission of good fairy was not
going to be successful at the start. "Some people want to be 'heavy,'"
she thought. "I'll take some one who looks as though she wanted to be
lightened up. Here's one."

The red-eyed cindery young woman who was curled up in her seat, dabbing
her cheeks with a smeary handkerchief, looked as though any change would
be a welcome one. Alice stopped resolutely. "Can I do anything for you?"
she asked, not at all sure of her reception.

The girl lifted her eyes and swallowed a sob. "Nobud-d-dy can," she
wailed; "I'm going to be m-m-married!"

Alice's face twitched. "Won't you tell me about it?" she asked.
"Cheering folks up" was proving an intricate business. "If the garment
of praise doesn't fit any one," she thought, "I'll just have to carry it
back and wear it myself."

The bride gulped and spoke again:

"It's to be to-night and I've missed my train at the Junction already,
and I don't know what to do. Everybody was invited and the supper won't
keep, and I lost my solid silver hatpin, anyway."

"Can't you come out and walk with me?" suggested Alice. "The air will
make you feel better. Bathe your eyes and come."

Still tearful, but manifestly a little relieved, the bride obeyed and,
once out on the prairie, poured forth her tale. She had at the last
moment decided she could not bear to be married without a veil, and had
gone early in the morning to the nearest town to invest her last money
in that frivolity. Fate was against her, however, for there were no
veils in the shops, and a