Mrs. Bett's voice sounded. "I was coming when
I got rested up."

She entered, looking vaguely about. "I want Lulie," she said, and the
corners of her mouth drew down. She ate her dinner cold, appeased in
vague areas by such martyrdom. They were still at table when the front
door opened.

"Monona hadn't ought to use the front door so common," Mrs. Bett
complained.

But it was not Monona. It was Lulu and Cornish.

"Well!" said Dwight, tone curving downward.

"Well!" said Ina, in replica.

"Lulie!" said Mrs. Bett, and left her dinner, and went to her daughter
and put her hands upon her.

"We wanted to tell you first," Cornish said. "We've just got married."

"For _ever_ more!" said Ina.

"What's this?" Dwight sprang to his feet. "You're joking!" he cried with
hope.

"No," Cornish said soberly. "We're married--just now. Methodist
parsonage. We've had our dinner," he added hastily.

"Where'd you have it?" Ina demanded, for no known reason.

"The bakery," Cornish replied, and flushed.

"In the dining-room part," Lulu added.

Dwight's sole emotion was his indignation.

"What on earth did you do it for?" he put it to them. "Married in a
bakery--"

No, no. They explained it again. Neither of them, they said, wanted the
fuss of a wedding.

Dwight recovered himself in a measure. "I'm not surprised, after all,"
he said. "Lulu usually marries in this way."

Mrs. Bett patted her daughter's arm. "Lulie," she said, "why, Lulie. You
ain't been and got married twice, have you? After waitin' so long?"

"Don't be disturbed, Mother Bett," Dwight cried. "She wasn't married
that first time, if you remember. No marriage about it!"

Ina's little shriek sounded.

"Dwight!" she cried. "Now everybody'll have to know that. You'll have to
tell about Ninian now--and his other wife!"

Standing between her mother and Cornish, an arm of each about her, Lulu
looked across at Ina and Dwight, and they all saw in her face a
horrified realisation.

"Ina!" she said. "Dwight! You _will_ have to tell now, won't you? Why I
never thought of that."

At this Dwight sneered, was sneering still as he went to give Grandma
Gates her ride in the wheel-chair and as he stooped with patient
kindness to tuck her in.

The street door was closed. If Mrs. Bett was peeping through the blind,
no one saw her. In the pleasant mid-day light under the maples, Mr. and
Mrs. Neil Cornish were hurrying toward the railway station.

***END OF THE PR