bolic thing happened. The sun suddenly burst through
the gray and poured a flood of radiance on the happy bride. Instantly
the garden was alive with dancing shadows and flickering lights.

"What a lovely omen," thought Anne, as she ran to kiss the bride. Then
the three girls left the rest of the guests laughing around the bridal
pair while they flew into the house to see that all was in readiness for
the feast.

"Thanks be to goodness, it's over, Miss Shirley, ma'am," breathed
Charlotta the Fourth, "and they're married safe and sound, no matter
what happens now. The bags of rice are in the pantry, ma'am, and the old
shoes are behind the door, and the cream for whipping is on the sullar
steps."

At half past two Mr. and Mrs. Irving left, and everybody went to Bright
River to see them off on the afternoon train. As Miss Lavendar . . . I
beg her pardon, Mrs. Irving . . . stepped from the door of her old home
Gilbert and the girls threw the rice and Charlotta the Fourth hurled an
old shoe with such excellent aim that she struck Mr. Allan squarely on
the head. But it was reserved for Paul to give the prettiest send-off.
He popped out of the porch ringing furiously a huge old brass dinner
bell which had adorned the dining room mantel. Paul's only motive was to
make a joyful noise; but as the clangor died away, from point and curve
and hill across the river came the chime of "fairy wedding bells,"
ringing clearly, sweetly, faintly and more faint, as if Miss Lavendar's
beloved echoes were bidding her greeting and farewell. And so, amid this
benediction of sweet sounds, Miss Lavendar drove away from the old life
of dreams and make-believes to a fuller life of realities in the busy
world beyond.

Two hours later Anne and Charlotta the Fourth came down the lane again.
Gilbert had gone to West Grafton on an errand and Diana had to keep an
engagement at home. Anne and Charlotta had come back to put things in
order and lock up the little stone house. The garden was a pool of late
golden sunshine, with butterflies hovering and bees booming; but the
little house had already that indefinable air of desolation which always
follows a festivity.

"Oh dear me, don't it look lonesome?" sniffed Charlotta the Fourth, who
had been crying all the way home from the station. "A wedding ain't much
cheerfuller than a funeral after all, when it's all over, Miss Shirley,
ma'am."

A busy evening followed. The decorations had to be removed, the d