m Adolphus Turnpike ever attended as a
guest was that of Tommy Watson and Flo Dearmore. The formal invitation
was a startling surprise to the lad. It arrived at his home one
morning just as he was about to depart for the office. He read it
through three times, and then handed it over to his mother. "Ma," he
cried, "look at that!" She read it through, and a blush of pleasure
tinged her cheeks as she did so. "A church wedding, Willie, and you
invited; and then there's a--a--a de-jun-er. I guess that means a
spread at the house of the bride's mother."

"But me! Ma: why, I'd feel like a fish outer water among the bunch
that'll be there, unless," he added thoughtfully, "'Chuck' Epstein goes
too, and I can hang onto him."

The time between the reception of the invitation and the wedding was a
trying one for William. He worried about what he should wear--and his
choice was rather limited--but he worried more about what he should
give, "For," said his mother, "you'll have to give the bride something:
everybody does that when they're invited to a wedding." In the crisis
of his dilemma over this proposition William consulted "Chuck" Epstein,
and the result of their deliberations was the sending to the
prospective bride of a parrot "that could talk to beat the band," as
William said. Epstein never told him that he had himself paid the
original owner of the parrot a larger amount than William could spare,
and had arranged with him to accept the sum that the boy offered. And
of all the gifts that Flo Dearmore received from others but the man of
her choice, that parrot pleased her most, "For," said she, "he is the
slangiest bird imaginable, and sometimes he uses swear words--just like
my Tommy."

The wedding, which took place at "high noon" in an Anglican church, was
a wonderful experience for William. With "Chuck" Epstein, he had a
good seat near the altar, and many were the smiles and knowing nods
exchanged between other invited guests at the evident eagerness of the
lad to take in all the proceedings. And yet no other person, perhaps,
in the assembly--and it was a large one--felt more than William the
real solemnity of the ceremony. He was not very clear as to his exact
feelings, but the dignity of the rector, the simple beauty of the
marriage ritual, the singing of the choir, the love light in the eyes
of the bride and of Tommy, combined to impress him profoundly. He
smiled once, in fact he scarcely suppressed