ime, and it was only five minutes to five when Bess came
in to get her procession all marshalled.

"Come down the back steps, darling, and let's all cool off on the back
porch," she advised. "It is terribly hot up here under the roof, and Polly
and Matthew say they have decided to come in from the back door so
everybody will have a better view of you. How beautiful you are!"

As directed, I descended and stood spread out like a white peacock on the
back porch.

"Now call Matthew and Polly," Bess directed Annette.

For several minutes we waited.

"Monsieur Berry is not here," finally reported Annette, with fine dramatic
effect of her outspread hands.

"Tell Owen to find him," commanded Bess. "It is five minutes late now, and
they must make that seven-twenty New York train. Hurry!"

Annette departed while Aunt Mary came to the back door and looked out
questioningly.

"Great guns, Bess, where is Matt?" demanded Owen as he came around the
house with his eyes and hair wild.

"Where is Polly? she'll know!" I answered tranquilly.

"I searched Mademoiselle Polly, and she is also not here," answered
Annette, again running down the back stairs. From the long parlor and hall
came an excited buzz, and Aunt Mary came out upon the back porch entirely
this time.

"Every one of you go and look for them and leave me here quiet if you don't
want me to have a brain storm," I said positively. "They have probably gone
to feed the chickens."

Not risking me to make good my threat, Bess and Annette and Aunt Mary and
Owen and Bud disappeared in as many different directions. They left me
standing alone out on the old porch, along the eaves of which rioted a
rose, literally covered with small pink blossoms that kept throwing
generous gusts of rosy petals down upon my tulle and lace and the bouquet
of exotics I held in my hand. Across the valley the skyline of Paradise
Ridge seemed to be holding down huge rosy clouds that were trying to bubble
up beyond it.

Suddenly I drew aside the tulle from my face, dropped my bouquet, and
stretched out my arms to the sunset.

"I will lift up mine eyes to the hills--Oh, Pan!" I said in a soft agony of
supplication as I felt the crust around me begin a cosmic upheaval.

"Well, this looks like a Romney bundle and my woman to follow into the
woods. You know I won't have this kind of a wedding," suddenly fluted a
stormy voice from the other side of the rose vine as Pan came up to the
bottom of