ur at the select
Institution of Learning. All she had to do was look at a Villager
through her Nose-Specs and he would curl up like an Autumn Leaf.

A Cuss from Chicago came to see her every two weeks.

His Trousers seemed to be choking him. The Pompadour was protected by
a Derby of the Fried-Egg species. It was the kind that Joe Weber
helped to keep in Public Remembrance. But in 1886 it was de Rigeur, au
Fait, and a la mode.

Frances would load the hateful City Chap into the high Cart and
exhibit him up and down all the Residence Thoroughfares.

On nearly every Front Porch some Girl whose Father was not interested
in the First National Bank would peer out through the Morning Glories
at the Show-off and then writhe like an Angle-Worm.

The Wedding was the biggest thing that had struck the town since
Forepaugh stopped over on his way from Peoria to Decatur.

Frances was not a popular Girl, on account of being so Uppish, so
those who could not fight their way into the Church climbed up and
looked through the Windows.

The Groom wore a Swallow-Tail.

Most of those present had seen Pictures of the Dress Suit. In the
_Fireside Companion_, the Gentleman wearing one always had Curls, and
the Wood-Engraving caught him in the act of striking a Lady in the
Face and saying "Curse you!"

The Feeling at the County-Seat was that Frances had taken a Desperate
Chance.

The caterer with Colored Help in White Gloves, the ruby Punch
suspected of containing Liquor, the Japanese Lanterns attached to the
Maples, the real Lace in the Veil, the glittering Array of
Pickle-Jars, and a well-defined Rumor that most of the imported Ushers
had been Stewed, gave the agitated Hamlet something to blat about for
many and many a day.

The Bachelor of Arts grabbed off by the daughter of Jennie and the
Grand-daughter of Susan was the owner of Real Estate in the congested
Business District of a Town which came into Public Attention later on
through the efforts of Frank Chance.

His front name was Willoughby, but Frances always called him "Dear,"
no matter what she happened to be thinking at the time.

Part of State Street had been wished on to Willoughby. He was afraid
to sell, not knowing how to reinvest.

So he sat back and played safe. With growing Delight he watched the
Unearned Increment piling up on every Corner. He began to see that he
would be fairly busy all his life, jacking up Rents.

The Red-Brick Fortress to which he conduct