gravity of
the moment too deeply even to smile. He wondered how he could meet the
curious faces packed together in the adjoining room. His whole frame was
in a tremor, but he was sure that Tilly's hand and wrist on his arm were
as steady as they had ever been. He was seeing her from a new angle, and
admired her more than ever.

"Come on," she said, simply, and she it was who led into the parlor.

It was soon over. The minister kept them standing before him only a few
minutes. The women pressed forward to kiss the bride, and John found
himself quite ignored. His place was by her side at that moment, surely,
but, blind to custom, as usual, he extricated himself from the throng
and joined Cavanaugh in the hall.

"What are you doing here?" the contractor demanded, as he shook hands
warmly and congratulated him. "They will expect you in there with the
bride. I know that is where I stayed when I went through it."

"I am all right here," John replied, doggedly. "I don't want to talk to
all that mob."

At this juncture Whaley appeared--Whaley, of all others. He was chewing
tobacco and nonchalantly wiped his lips on a clean, folded handkerchief.
John felt more than he had ever felt before the man's intuitive dislike
for him, and it was significant now that Whaley should address Cavanaugh
rather than him.

"I'm sorry you are going off," he said. "I've had some pretty fair talks
with you off and on, though we are still wide apart on doctrine. Do you
know a man like me can learn to handle his own theories by arguing even
with a fellow that lies down at every point, as you'll have to admit
you've done time after time."

"That's so, but this is a wedding," Cavanaugh smiled, "and I'm here to
tell you, old horse, that this young man is going to make you proud some
day."

"We'll hope so--we'll hope so." Whaley frowned till his heavy brows
clashed. "I'm relying on your opinion. You've known him longer than I
have."

Hearing this and being infuriated by it, John shrugged his shoulders,
sniffed audibly, and went out on the veranda, fully aware that by his
act he had shown contempt for his father-in-law. Outside the yard, a
heap of pine-knots was being burned to furnish light for the unhitching
and hitching of horses, and the red, smoke-broken rays fell over the
street and house. Through the window John saw the throng within the
parlor. Tilly and her mother stood side by side, surrounded by friends.
Never had he felt more alien