oy who delights in turning things topsy-turvy whenever
he has a chance.

Fate had been busy at this for some time when the sanitarium, quite
oblivious of any signal connection, set itself to the glorious business of
getting Sheila O'Leary married. Grief, despair, disappointment came often
to the San, death not infrequently, but happiness rarely, and there had
never before been such a joyous, personal happiness as this one. Small
wonder that the San should gather it close to its heart and gloat over it!
Was not Sheila one of its very own, born under its portals, trained in its
school, placed above all its nurses, and loved beyond all else? And Peter
Brooks. Had not the San given him his life and Sheila? It certainly was a
time for rejoicing. As Hennessy had voiced it:

"Sure, half the weddin's ye go to ye sit miserable, thinkin' the man isn't
good enough for the lass, or the lass is no mate for the man. But, glory
be to Pether! here's a weddin' at last that God Almighty might be cryin'
the banns for."

They were to be married within the month. Every one was agreed to this,
from the superintendent down to Flanders, the bus-driver--yes, and even
the lovers themselves. The San forgot its aches and sorrows in the
excitement of planning an early summer wedding.

"We'll make the chapel look lovely," chirped the Reverend Mrs. Grumble,
clasping and unclasping her hands in a fidget of anticipation. "There'll
be enough roses and madonna lilies in the gardens to bank every pew and
make an arch over the chancel."

"Well, if Leerie's married in the chapel, half of us can't get in." And
Madam Courot shook her head in emphatic disapproval. "She'd better take
the Congregational church. That's the only place large enough to hold
everybody who will want to come."

A mutinous murmur rose and circled the patients on the veranda. Not
married at the San! It was unthinkable. So this point and the final date
Sheila settled for them.

"We'll have the wedding in the gardens, save all the fuss and waste of
picking the flowers, be ever so much prettier, and everybody and his
neighbor can come."

When Hennessy heard of it he shirred his mouth into a pucker and whistled
ecstatically. "'Tis like her, just! Married out-o'-doors wi' the growin'
things to stand up wi' her and the blessed sun on her head. Faith,
Hennessy will have to be scrubbin' up the swans an' puttin' white satin
bows round their necks."

Sheila chose the hour before sunset