. She's still unconscious." In
some ways as unconscious as was the Corn-tassel, Matthew began to press hot
kisses on the face under his chin which brought forth a feeble choke.

"Lay her down on the porch, and I'll show you how to empty her lungs,
Berry," said Adam, laying down his bundle and taking charge of the
situation, as all the rest, even capable Aunt Mary, still stood helpless
before the catastrophe. Reluctantly, Matthew obeyed.

"Uncle Cradd, go in the house and tell them all what has happened, and ask
them all to come out on the cool of the lawn until we can have the
wedding. It will be in just a few minutes, tell them," I said, with the
brain that had taken the incubator eggs to bed with Bess and me beginning
to act rapidly. "Let me speak to you just a second, Matt," I said, and drew
the dazed and dripping bridegroom to one side.

"Matthew," I said very quietly and slowly so that I would not have to
repeat the words, "I'm not going to marry you at all, but I'm going to
marry Evan Baldwin. I'll tell you all about it when I come back from my
honeymoon with him. You help me put it through and then stay right here and
look after Polly. She may suffer terribly from shock."

"Oh, God, Ann, my heart turned over in my breast and kicked when I saw her
sink, and for a minute I couldn't find her," Matthew said as he gave a
dripping shudder that shook some of the water off him and on my tulle. To
the announcement of the loss of a bride he gave no heed at all, for at that
moment, as Pan lifted the drenched bundle across his knees and patted it,
a faint voice moaned out Matthew's name, and he flew to receive the revived
Polly in his arms.

"Now, hold her that way until I am sure I have established complete
respiration," commanded Pan. "You women begin to take these wet rags off of
her. Get two blankets." At which command the rest of the bridal party flew
to work in different directions and I with them. Bess and I arrived in my
room at the same moment, and she seized the two blankets I drew from the
chest and departed without waiting for words. As I drew out the blankets,
something else rolled to the floor, and I saw it was my Romney bundle,
packed weeks before my death.

Its suggestion was not to be denied. I stopped just where I was, and in two
minutes my strong hands ripped that tulle and lace and chiffon from my back
without waiting to undo hooks and eyes. In another three minutes I was into
a pair of the tan cotto