e was born.
Aunt Cecilia welcomed them all in her inimitable manner, which made each
one feel that he was the one and most particularly honored guest. For
all her apparent absent-mindedness, she knew exactly who belonged to
Mrs. Bunce's department and who not.

Mrs. Bunce, the old housekeeper, was very busy, every button doing its
duty! A wedding didn't come her way every day. The sisters-in-law, of
course, came with their belongings.

Zerlina was distressed at the nature of many of the presents; and
wondered if Pauline would have enough spare rooms to put them in; which
showed how little she knew her. If Pauline had told her that she valued
the alabaster greyhound under a glass case, subscribed for by the
old men and women in the village, over seventy, Zerlina wouldn't have
believed her any more than did old Mrs. Barker when Diana told her Sara
was named after a dear old housemaid and not after the Duchess.

Betty and Hugh were among the bridesmaids and pages, and Hugh shocked
Betty very much by saying, in the middle of the service "When may I play
with my girl?"

Some one described Uncle Jim as looking like one of the Apostles, and
Aunt Cecilia certainly looked like a saint. Ought I, by the way, to
bracket an apostle and a saint? But nothing was so wonderful or so
beautiful as the expression on Pauline's face. I am sure that, as she
walked up the aisle, she was oblivious to everything and every one
except God and Dick.

It is assuredly a great responsibility for a man to accept such a love
as hers.

A wedding is nearly always a choky thing, and Pauline's was particularly
so. As she left the church, she stopped in the churchyard to speak to
her friends, and for one old woman she waited to let her feel her dress.

"Is it my jewels you want to feel, Anne?" she said, as the old hands
tremblingly passed over her bodice. "I have on no jewels."

The old hands went up to Pauline's face and gently and reverently
touched it. "God bless her happy face," said the old woman. "I had to
know for sure." Pauline kissed the old fingers gently. We all knew for
sure, but then we had eyes to see.

Pauline went away in the afternoon, and the villagers danced far into
the evening, and there was revelry in the park by night.

After Pauline and Dick had gone away, I walked across the park to
the post office to send a telegram to Julia, who was kept at home by
illness, to her very great disappointment. There is nothing she adores