ngregation
by treating the poor with the same consideration as themselves. And
then, astonished by the number of mothers who were not wives, that he
discovered on his rounds, he had announced that he would open the
church on the first Saturday night in every month to marry any couples
without needless questions. They could pay, if they chose, but nothing
was expected.

Jonah and Ada jumped at the idea, but Mrs Yabsley thought with sorrow
of her cherished dream--Ada married on a fine day of sunshine, Cardigan
Street in an uproar, a feast where all could cut and come again, the
clink of glasses, and a chorus that shook the windows. Well, such
things were not to be, and she shut her mouth grimly. But she
determined in secret to get in a dozen of beer, and invite a few
friends after the ceremony to drink the health of the newly married,
and keep the secret till they got home. And as she was rather
suspicious of a wedding that cost nothing, she decided to give the
parson a dollar to seal the bargain and make the contract more binding.

CHAPTER 7

A QUIET WEDDING

The following Saturday Mrs Yabsley astonished her customers by
delivering the shirts and collars in the afternoon. There were cries
of amazement.

"No, I'm quite sober," she explained; "but I'm changin' the 'abits of a
lifetime just to show it can be done."

Then she hurried home to clean up the house. After much thought, she
had decided to hold the reception after the wedding in the front room,
as it was the largest. She spent an hour carrying the irons, boards,
and other implements of the laundry into the back rooms. A neighbour,
who poked her head in, asked if she were moving. But when she had
finished the cleaning, she surveyed the result with surprise. The room
was scrubbed as bare as a shaven chin. So she took some coloured
almanacs from the bedroom and kitchen, and tacked them on the walls,
studying the effect with the gravity of a decorative artist. The crude
blotches of colour pleased her eye, and she considered the result with
pride. "Wonderful 'ow a few pitchers liven a place up," she thought.

She looked doubtfully at the chairs. There were only three, and, years
ago, her immense weight had made them as uncertain on their legs as
drunkards. She generally sat on a box for safety. Finally, she
constructed two forms out of the ironing-boards and some boxes. Then
she fastened two ropes of pink tissue paper, that opened out