busy all day to-day with a business matter, and that I'd better
not get here till to-morrow. But I--"

"Wanted to get here in time for the wedding?" I suggested softly.

You should have seen her jump.

"Wedding! Not--"

"Mrs. Kingdon and Mr. Moriway."

She turned white.

"Has that man followed her here? Quick, tell me. Has she actually
married him?"

"No--not yet. It's for five o'clock at the church on the corner."

"How do you know?" She turned on me, suddenly suspicious.

"Well--I do know. And I'm the only person in the house that does."

"I don't believe you."

She took out her key and opened the door, and I followed her in with
the suit-case. But before I could get it set down on the floor, she
had swooped on a letter that was lying in the middle of the table, had
torn it open, and then with a cry had come whirling toward me.

"Where is this church? Come, help me to get to it before five and
I'll--oh, you shall have anything in the world you want!"

She flew out into the hall, I after her. And first thing you know we
were down in the street, around the corner, and there in front of the
church was a carriage with Moriway just helping Mrs. Kingdon out.

"Mother!"

At that cry the old lady's knees seemed to crumble under her. Her poor
old painted face looked out ghastly and ashamed from her wedding
finery. But Evelyn in her red coat flew to her and took her in her
arms as though she was a child. And like a child, Mrs. Kingdon sobbed
and made excuses and begged to be forgiven.

I looked at Moriway. It was all the pay I wanted--particularly as I
had those little diamonds.

"You're just in time, Miss Kingdon," he said uneasily, "to make your
mother happy by your presence at her wedding."

"I'm just in time, Mr. Moriway, to see that my mother's not made
unhappy by your presence."

"Evelyn!" Mrs. Kingdon remonstrated.

"Come, Sarah." Moriway offered his arm.

The bride shook her head.

"To-morrow," she said feebly.

Moriway breathed a swear.

Miss Kingdon laughed.

"I've come to take care of you, you silly little mother, dear.... It
won't be to-morrow, Mr. Moriway."

"No--not to-morrow--next week," sighed Mrs. Kingdon.

"In fact, mother's changed her mind, Mr. Moriway. She thinks it
ungenerous to accept such a sacrifice from a man who might be her
son--don't you, mother?"

"Well, perhaps, George--" She looked up from her daughter's
shoulder--she was crying all over that