t the gate. Mr. Snow took Jim by
the arm and led him in. They pressed through the crowd at the door, Miss
Snow making way for them, and so, in a sort of triumphal progress, they
went through the room, and disappeared in the apartment where "the
little woman," flushed and expectant, waited their arrival.

It would be hard to tell which was the more surprised as they were
confronted by the meeting. Dress had wrought its miracle upon both of
them, and they hardly knew each other.

"Well, little woman, how fare ye?" said Jim, and he advanced, and took
her cheeks tenderly between his rough hands, and kissed her.

"Oh, don't! Mr. Fenton! You'll muss her hair!" exclaimed the nervous
little lady's maid of the morning, dancing about the object of her
delightful toils and anxieties, and readjusting a rose, and pulling out
the fold of a ruffle.

"A purty job ye've made on't! The little woman'll never look so nice
again," said Jim.

"Perhaps I shall--when I'm married again," said Miss Butterworth,
looking up into Jim's eyes, and laughing.

"Now, ain't that sassy!" exclaimed Jim, in a burst of admiration.
"That's what took me the first time I seen 'er."

Then Miss Snow Number Two came in, and said it really was time for the
ceremony to begin. Such a job as she had had in seating people!

Oh, the mysteries of that little room! How the people outside wondered
what was going on there! How the girls inside rejoiced in their official
privileges!

Miss Snow took Jim by the button-hole:

"Mr. Fenton, you must take Miss Butterworth on your arm, you know, and
lead her in front of the sofa, and turn around, and face father, and
then do just what he tells you, and remember that there's nothing for
you to say."

The truth was, that they were all afraid that Jim would not be able to
hold his tongue.

"Are we all ready?" inquired Mr. Snow, in a pleasant, official tone.

All were ready, and then Mr. Snow, going out with a book in his hand,
was followed by Jim and his bride, the little procession being completed
by the three Misses Snow, who, with a great deal of care upon their
faces, slipped out of the door, one after another, like three white
doves from a window. Mr. Snow took his position, the pair wheeled and
faced him, and the three Misses Snow supported Miss Butterworth as
impromptu bridesmaids. It was an impressive tableau, and when the good
pastor said: "Let us pray," and raised his thin, white hands, a painter
in search o