heir subdued voices came through the door.

"There's all Aunt Christena's folks jist drove up, maw," whispered
Bella, rustling to the window in her stiff pink silk. "Cousin Martha's
got the book with the wedding march under her arm. Goodness! there's
the minister! Arabella, are you sure you're ready? An' there's Martin
and Dr. Allen comin' down the street!" The bridesmaid came and peeped
over her shoulder. "An' there's Marjorie Scott, Elsie! She's got her
new blue dress on, and she said she was going to wear her old white! I
bet that's because your Malcolm's home!"

The handle of the door rattled loudly. "Arabella!" hissed a deep voice
through the keyhole.

"Yes, William?" whispered his sister faintly.

"Here's the preacher. You'd best come on out."

"Hish, William!" commanded his wife, on the other side of the keyhole.
"She'll come out when I say so. He's a caution," she continued,
straightening up, and looking at the drooping bride as though her
brother's untoward conduct were all her fault. Miss Arabella drooped
farther. She slipped her arm inside her bridesmaid's.

"Elsie, if anybody else comes, don't--_don't_ let them tell me," she
whispered piteously. "It makes me feel awful!"

The bridesmaid took her hand and patted it soothingly. "I won't," she
promised cheerily. "Don't listen to a word any one says. I'll tell
you when it's time to go out, and there's nothing to be afraid of.
Why, you look just lovely! And think how proud Martin will be! You
mustn't get nervous, for his sake, you know."

"Arabella!" The keyhole once more gave forth a hissing whisper.
"We've all been waiting half an hour."

Mrs. Winters tightened her teeth. "He'll spoil everything!" she
declared. "It's awful old-fashioned for the bride to be on time, but
you can't knock that into William's head. You might as well go,
Arabella; and for pity's sakes, stand up straight, an' don't look so
scared!"

She pushed the trembling little blue figure toward the door. "Elsie,
you go first, and walk slow; no--wait! Bella, open the door and nod to
Cousin Martha to start playin'."

Bella's head shot out and in, the door slammed again, and there arose
from the other side of it faint, squeaky sounds from the organ.

"Goodness me! you can hardly hear her!" cried Mrs. Winters. "I told
Christena Martha'd spoil it! My sakes! I wish Ella Anne Long hadn't
run away so soon! Now open the door, Bella, awful slow. Now, Elsie,
go o