ordially invited to attend the wedding which was solemnized
with much pomp at a fashionable Fifth Avenue Church. The wedding day
came but no John. Not even by as much as a card did he extend his
congratulations to the happy couple. The only members of the Marsh
family present were Peter, the Presbyterian minister and his wife, from
Rahway, and Thomas Marsh, the haberdasher and his wife, from Newark,
while the genial Tod, a broad grin on his face, stood up for his mother.

The newly married pair took a showy house in West Seventy-second Street,
and while the money lasted they lived in magnificent style. When it was
gone they lived no less luxuriously, thanks to the unwilling
cooeperation of overconfident tradespeople. Mrs. Marsh felt that she
could not get along without her motor car, her butler, and half a dozen
useless maid servants. It cost money to entertain so lavishly and
creditors were pressing, but her bridge parties could not be interfered
with for such a trifling reason. At the pace they lived the few thousand
dollars were soon exhausted, yet no matter. Even if the butcher, the
baker, or the domestic servants were kept waiting for their money, the
social prestige of the Marshes must be maintained.

It was far from being smooth sailing. Jimmy's wits were taxed to the
utmost to ward off creditors who grew more and more importunate in their
demands. One day while he was down town trying to raise a loan, Mrs.
Marsh was subjected to such a mortifying and humiliating experience that
she feared she would never rally from the nervous shock it caused her.
It was her regular day at home, and Henry, the butler, stiff in gold
embroidered livery, was busy at the front door ushering in carriage
arrivals. As already hinted, his mistress was long in arrears with her
tradespeople, and being ever apprehensive of a court summons, she had
given Henry implicit instructions to carefully scrutinize all comers and
slam the heavy door in their faces on the slightest suspicion that the
visitors were not all they appeared to be. Having served the best
families for nearly thirty years, Henry was in a position to assure his
employer that he was more than a match for the wiliest lawyer. Nor had
he overestimated his powers. Loudest among the clamoring creditors was
the milkman. His bill was formidable, and every effort to collect it had
failed. He procured a summons, but it was found impossible to serve it.
Every trick known to the thick-sol