ened that way.

When John and me got there I asked the young man at the door--he was a
yusher and a stranger to me--to give us a front seat, but he said that
all the front places was reserved for the relations of the bride and
groom, and then I noticed that they'd tied off the middle aisle about
seven pews back with white satin ribbons and a big bunch of pink roses.
It seemed real impolite to invite folks to a weddin' and then take the
best seats themselves.

Well, just then I happened to feel my shoelacin' gettin' loose and I
stepped to one side to fix it; and when I got up from stoopin' and my
gloves on and buttoned--I had to take 'em off to tie my shoe--and
straightened John's cravat for him, why, there was the families on both
sides just goin' in.

Of course we had to follow right along behind 'em, and when we came up
to the ribbons--would you believe it?--the big bow just untied
itself--or seemed to--I heard afterward it was done by somebody pullin'
a invisible wire--and we all walked through and took seats. I made John
go into the pew ahead of me so's I could get out without disturbin'
anybody if I should have a headache or feel faint.

When John found we was settin' with the family--he was right close up
against Eleanor's mother--he was for gettin' up and movin' back. But I
just whispered to him, "John Appleby, do sit still! I hear the bridal
party comin'!"

Of course I didn't just _hear 'em_, but I was sure they'd be along in a
minute, and I knew it wouldn't do to move our seats anyway, as if we
weren't satisfied with 'em.

The church was decorated beautiful. Eleanor's folks must have cleaned
out their green-house to put into it, besides _tons_ of greens from the
city.

Pretty near the whole of Wrenville was there, and I must say the church
was a credit to the Wrenville dressmakers.

I could pick out all their different fits without any trouble.

There was Arabella Satterlee's--she shapes her backs like the top of a
coffin, or sometimes they remind me more of a kite; and Sallie Ann
Hodd's--she makes 'em square; and old Mrs. Tucker's--you can always tell
hers by the way the armholes draw; she makes the minister's wife's. But
they'd every one of 'em done their level best and I was proud of 'em.

Well, when the organ--it had been playin' low and soft all the
time--changed off into the weddin' march and the bridesmaids, eight of
'em, marched up the aisle behind the eight yushers, I tell you, Miss
Hallid