, had been trying her best to look rapt and
romantic, as beseemed a war bridesmaid, gave up the hopeless attempt,
and devoted her energies to choking down untimely merriment. She dared
not look at anybody in the room, especially Mrs. Dead Angus, for fear
all her suppressed mirth should suddenly explode in a most
un-young-ladylike yell of laughter.

But married they were, and then they had a wedding-supper in the
dining-room which was so lavish and bountiful that you would have
thought it was the product of a month's labour. Everybody had brought
something. Mrs. Dead Angus had brought a large apple-pie, which she
placed on a chair in the dining-room and then absently sat down on it.
Neither her temper nor her black silk wedding garment was improved
thereby, but the pie was never missed at the gay bridal feast. Mrs.
Dead Angus eventually took it home with her again.
Whiskers-on-the-moon's pacifist pig should not get it, anyhow.

That evening Mr. and Mrs. Joe, accompanied by the recovered Sir
Wilfrid, departed for the Four Winds Lighthouse, which was kept by
Joe's uncle and in which they meant to spend their brief honeymoon. Una
Meredith and Rilla and Susan washed the dishes, tidied up, left a cold
supper and Miranda's pitiful little note on the table for Mr. Pryor,
and walked home, while the mystic veil of dreamy, haunted winter
twilight wrapped itself over the Glen.

"I would really not have minded being a war-bride myself," remarked
Susan sentimentally.

But Rilla felt rather flat--perhaps as a reaction to all the excitement
and rush of the past thirty-six hours. She was disappointed
somehow--the whole affair had been so ludicrous, and Miranda and Joe so
lachrymose and commonplace.

"If Miranda hadn't given that wretched dog such an enormous dinner he
wouldn't have had that fit," she said crossly. "I warned her--but she
said she couldn't starve the poor dog--he would soon be all she had
left, etc. I could have shaken her."

"The best man was more excited than Joe was," said Susan. "He wished
Miranda many happy returns of the day. She did not look very happy, but
perhaps you could not expect that under the circumstances."

"Anyhow," thought Rilla, "I can write a perfectly killing account of it
all to the boys. How Jem will howl over Sir Wilfrid's part in it!"

But if Rilla was rather disappointed in the war wedding she found
nothing lacking on Friday morning when Miranda said good-bye to her
bridegroom at the G