rcy on me!" she cried.

"Mercy on them," said the young man who had been regarded as queer.

She took hold of a post to steady herself. She heard the deep voice of
the banker; the droning tone of "Old Sister Phoebe" came from the
parlor.

"Don't tremble so. It can't be helped now," said the young man. "It's
nothing to cry about. How did I know? You said you wanted me to
perform a marriage ceremony, and I did. How did I know it was in fun?
You didn't say so. The father and mother were in the other room. They
could have come in and objected. How did I know but that they had
given their consent, and stayed in the other room for sentimental
reasons? I am not supposed to know everything."

"Oh, but who will tell Cousin McElwin?" she sobbed. "And who will tell
Zeb Sawyer? Oh, it's awful, and it's all your fault, and you know it.
You are crazy, that's what you are."

"Well, you can exercise your own opinion about that. You people have
all along said that I would never do anything, but if I haven't done
something tonight to stir up the town----"

"Oh, you malicious thing. I don't know what to do! Oh, I don't know
what is to become of me!"

"It's all very well to cry, for marriages are often attended by tears,
but you should not call me malicious. Mr. McElwin laughed when my
mother told him I was going to preach, and it almost broke her heart."

"Revengeful creature," she sobbed, clinging to the post.

"No, the Gospel is not revengeful, but it humbles pride, for that is a
service done the Lord. Step in there and see if Mr. McElwin has
anything to laugh about now. He laughed at my poor mother when he knew
that all her earthly hope was centered in me. Well, I'll bid you good
night."

"Oh, no," she cried, seizing him. "You shall not leave me to face it
all. You shall not."

"No, that wouldn't be right. I'll face it."

CHAPTER VI.

HUMBLED INTO THE DUST.

Lyman found favor with the company, that is, with the exception of Eva
McElwin, whose position demanded a certain reserve. He had sought to
engage her in conversation, and she had listened as if struck with the
tone of his voice, but she turned suddenly away, remembering,
doubtless, that she was present as an act of condescension, and that
for the time being she was the social property not of any stranger,
but of her "poor kin." Lyman looked after her with a smile and a merry
twinkle of mischief in his eye. He had heard it said that her
complexion was of