kindly nurses forgot to
report--basins left about, errors on her records. She rinsed her
thermometer in hot water one night, and startled an interne by sending
him word that Mary McGuire's temperature was a hundred and ten degrees.
She let a delirious patient escape from the ward another night and go
airily down the fire-escape before she discovered what had happened!
Then she distinguished herself by flying down the iron staircase and
bringing the runaway back single-handed.

For Christine's wedding the Street threw off its drab attire and assumed
a wedding garment. In the beginning it was incredulous about some of the
details.

"An awning from the house door to the curbstone, and a policeman!"
reported Mrs. Rosenfeld, who was finding steady employment at the Lorenz
house. "And another awning at the church, with a red carpet!"

Mr. Rosenfeld had arrived home and was making up arrears of rest and
recreation.

"Huh!" he said. "Suppose it don't rain. What then?" His Jewish father
spoke in him.

"And another policeman at the church!" said Mrs. Rosenfeld triumphantly.

"Why do they ask 'em if they don't trust 'em?"

But the mention of the policemen had been unfortunate. It recalled to
him many things that were better forgotten. He rose and scowled at his
wife.

"You tell Johnny something for me," he snarled. "You tell him when he
sees his father walking down street, and he sittin' up there alone on
that automobile, I want him to stop and pick me up when I hail him. Me
walking, while my son swells around in a car! And another thing." He
turned savagely at the door. "You let me hear of him road-housin', and
I'll kill him!"

The wedding was to be at five o'clock. This, in itself, defied all
traditions of the Street, which was either married in the very early
morning at the Catholic church or at eight o'clock in the evening at
the Presbyterian. There was something reckless about five o'clock. The
Street felt the dash of it. It had a queer feeling that perhaps such a
marriage was not quite legal.

The question of what to wear became, for the men, an earnest one. Dr. Ed
resurrected an old black frock-coat and had a "V" of black cambric set
in the vest. Mr. Jenkins, the grocer, rented a cutaway, and bought a
new Panama to wear with it. The deaf-and-dumb book agent who boarded at
McKees', and who, by reason of his affliction, was calmly ignorant of
the excitement around him, wore a borrowed dress-suit, and considered