e said, "our pulpit is occupied by the best possible
talent. The Vicar takes the greatest interest in securing every rising
preacher, and thus, Sunday after Sunday, we have the most startling
orations."

The Bridegroom (slightly bored) said that if he had happened to live
in the neighbourhood, he should certainly have taken sittings.

"But living in the neighbourhood is not necessary, Sir," persisted the
Pew-opener. "Let into the sounding-board is a telephone, and so our
Vicar can supply the sermons preached here, hot and hot, to residents
in the London Postal District. Considering the quality of the
discourses, he charges a very low rate. The system has been largely
adopted. As a matter of fact the whole service, and not only the
pulpit, has been laid on to the principal Hotels and Clubs."

But further conversation was here cut short by the arrival of the
Bride, who, led by her brother, advanced towards the altar with an air
of confidence that charmed all beholders. This self-possession was
the outcome of the lady being--as her grey moire-antique indicated--a
widow. Congratulations passed round amongst the friends and relatives,
and then the bridal party was arranged in front of the good old Vicar.

"Have you switched us on?" said he to the Clerk.

"Yes, Sir," was the reply. "We are now in communication with all the
principal Hotels and Clubs."

"That's right. I am always anxious that my clients shall have their
full money's-worth." And then the Vicar read with much emphasis the
exhortation to the public to declare any "just cause or impediment" to
the marriage. Naturally there was no response, and an opening hymn was
sung by the choir, which, containing some half-dozen verses, lasted
quite a quarter of an hour. At its conclusion the Vicar, who had
allowed his attention to become distracted, instead of going on with
the service, again read the exhortation. He once more gave the names
of "HARRY SMITH, bachelor," and "AMY JONES, widow."

"If anyone knows any just cause or impediment," he continued.

"Stop; I do!" interrupted a gentleman in a dressing-gown, who had
hurriedly entered the Church. "I heard you about a quarter of an hour
ago, while I was breakfasting at the Shaftesbury Avenue Hotel, ask the
same question, and came here without changing my coat. Very sorry to
interrupt the ceremony, but this lady is my wife! Well, AMY, how are
you?"

"What, JOEY!" exclaimed the (now) ex-Bride, delightedly. "We _are_