cry she ran to meet them.

"Oh, Miss Massey," she cried, "and Robert. Are you out for a walk, too?"

The man looked down at her. "Yes, little girl. We are going into that
old church. Did you see the minister?"

"Yes, he's inside," said Suzanna. She looked at Miss Massey. "You've
been crying," she said.

Miss Massey tried to speak calmly, but there was a little quiver in her
voice. "Because it's all so different from what I dreamed."

"Come, dear," said Robert then, "come with me."

She seemed to take courage from his manliness and the truth of his love
shining forth from his eyes, and so she put her hand into his and walked
up the path with him.

At the door of the church they paused again. Suzanna who had followed
quickly, said, "This is Drusilla, my very best friend."

Miss Massey looked into the sweet old face. Perhaps she thought of her
own mother, for the tears came quickly again. "I'm glad to know you,"
she said simply. And then asked, "Won't you come in and see me married?"

And Drusilla answered: "Indeed, I should like to very much, my dear."

So Robert helped her gently from the wheel chair. He lifted small Daphne
upon the vacated seat and tucked her in carefully. And then they all
entered the church.

The minister came down from the altar. He had lit two candles and they
sent their wavering light out upon the small audience. The Man above the
altar looked down with infinite tenderness upon the pale little bride.

The minister spoke: "Robert, take your bride upon your arm!"

Thus adjured, Robert proffered his arm and Miss Massey put her small
hand upon it. Then slowly they walked behind the minister to the altar.
Suzanna, Maizie, and Peter followed.

Graham offered his support to his grandmother. He had pledged his fealty
to her and he felt grateful that she leaned upon him as slowly she
mounted the four steps which led to the altar.

There they grouped themselves about the bridal pair. Graham stood close
to his grandmother, Suzanna near to Miss Massey, Peter and Maizie at
Robert's right hand.

The minister began: "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together--"
and on through the beautiful old ceremony.

He came at length to this question: "Who giveth this woman to this man?"
and paused simply in custom. And old John Massey was far distant,
nursing his anger and yet sad, too, because he would not in his temper
attend the marriage of his daughter, though most lovingly and pleadingly
had tha