urried back to
his post in front of the big entrance. Meanwhile the bride-elect upstairs,
with happy heart and trembling fingers, was putting on her own beautiful
garments once more, and arranging the waves of lovely hair in their old
accustomed way.

Tryon Dunham's plans were well laid. He first called up his friend the
minister and told him to be ready; then a florist not far from the church;
then a large department store where he had spent some time that morning.
"Is that Mr. Hunter, head of the fur department? Mr. Hunter, this is Mr.
Dunham. You remember our conversation this morning? Kindly send the coat
and hat I selected to the Y.W.C.A. Building at once. Yes, just send them
to the office. You remember it was to be C.O.D., and I showed you my
certified check this morning. It's all right, is it? How long will it take
you to get it there?... All right. Have the boy wait if I'm not there.
Good-by."

His next move was to order a carriage, and have it stop at the florist's
on the way. That done, he consulted his watch. Seventeen minutes of his
precious half-hour were gone. With nervous haste he went into a telephone
booth and called up his own home on the long-distance.

To his relief, his mother answered.

"Is that you, Mother? This is Tryon. Are you all well? That's good. Yes,
I'm in Chicago, but will soon be home. Mother, I've something to tell you
that may startle you, though there is nothing to make you sad. You have
known that there was something on my mind for some time." He paused for
the murmur of assent.

He knew how his mother was looking, even though he could not see her--that
set look of being ready for anything. He wanted to spare her as much as
possible, so he hastened on:

"You remember speaking to me about the ring I wore?"

"Tryon! Are you engaged?" There was a sharp anxiety in the tone as it came
through the hundreds of miles of space.

"One better, Mother. I'm just about to be married!"

"My son! What have you done? Don't forget the honorable name you bear!"

"No, Mother, I don't forget. She's fine and beautiful and sweet. You will
love her, and our world will fall at her feet!"

"But who is she? You must remember that love is very blind. Tryon, you
must come home at once. I shall die if you disgrace us all. Don't do
anything to spoil our lives. I know it is something dreadful, or you would
not do it in such haste."

"Nothing of the kind, Mother. Can't you trust me? Let me explain. She