h
flowers.

They were all there, Dr. Fenton slapping everybody on the back and
roaring at his own jokes; Sid Gray carrying Annette's flowers with a
look of plump complacency; Jimmy Reed constituting himself a bureau of
information, giving and soliciting news concerning wedding presents,
destination of wedding journey, and future plans.

Up-stairs, at a hall window, the groom was living through rapturous
throes of anticipation. For the hundredth time he made sure the ring
was in the left pocket of his waistcoat.

From down-stairs came the hum of voices mingled with the music. The
warm breath of coming summer stole through the window.

Sandy looked joyously out across the fields of waving blue-grass to
the shining river. Down by the well was an old windmill, and at its
top a weather-vane. When he spied it he smiled. Once again he was a
ragged youngster, back on the Liverpool dock; the fog was closing in,
and the coarse voices of the sailors rang in his ears. In quick
flashes the scenes of his boyhood came before him,--the days on
shipboard, on the road with Ricks, at the Exposition, at Hollis Farm,
at the university,--and through them all that golden thread of romance
that had led him safe and true to the very heart of the enchanted land
where he was to dwell forever.

"'Fore de Lawd, Mist' Sandy, ef you ain't fergit yer necktie!"

It was Aunt Melvy who burst in upon his reverie with these ominous
words. She had been expected to assist with the wedding breakfast, but
the events above-stairs had proved too alluring.

Sandy's hand flew to his neck. "It's at the farm," he cried in great
excitement, "wrapped in tissue-paper in the top drawer. Send Jim, or
Joe, or Nick--any of the darkies you can find!"

"Send nuthin'," muttered Aunt Melvy, shuffling down the stairs. "I's
gwine myself, ef I has to take de bridal kerridge."

Messengers were sent in hot haste, one to the farm and one to town,
while Jimmy Reed was detailed to canvass the guests and see if a white
four-in-hand might be procured.

"The nearest thing is Mr. Meech's," he reported on his fourth trip
up-stairs; "it's a white linen string-tie, but he doesn't want to take
it off."

"Faith, and he'll have to!" said Sandy, in great agitation. "Don't he
know that nobody will be looking at him?"

Annette appeared at a bedroom door, a whirl of roses and pink.

"What's the m-matter? Ruth will have a f-fit if you wait much longer,
and my hair is coming out of c