rried life--it was learned that the ways of the
clock were nearly as eccentric as those of its donor, for when it went
at all, the hands made the downward journey with so much rapidity that
they were exhausted at the bottom and in no condition for the return
trip. The end came one morning when the clock, which was known as "Aunt
Helen," was discovered to have died at six-thirty; and, all horological
assistance having been summoned in vain, it was suffered to stand in its
corner, untouched except by dust cloths, its hands forever pointing at
six-thirty, an eloquent warning of the end of indolence.

Although perhaps Mrs. Norris's contribution to the future life of our
lovers was not distinguished by that perfect satisfaction which we all
strive to furnish with our wedding gifts, her services at the wedding
itself were invaluable. Nancy naturally turned to her for assistance
with the thousand and one preliminaries that the bride's mother usually
performs, and, moving in her own wondrous ways, Mrs. Norris saw to
everything.

The night before the wedding arrived, and she gave a dinner for the
bridal party. As, after considerable discussion, Nancy had consented to
have the reception at the Norris house, Mrs. Norris relieved the minds
of her people in the kitchen by having a buffet supper--and using paper
napkins.

Nancy was grateful for this, for she was extremely tired, and the
simpler everything could be, the better. So the supper was eaten all
over the house and out on the terrace, and when the last paper napkin
had been crumpled up, and the entire party had been brought together to
drink the bride's health, and her future husband's, and their mutual
healths, in the Dean's 1854 champagne, the party was whisked off up to
the college church for rehearsal.

Upon arriving there, Nancy being engaged momentarily with Mary, who had
heroically consented to be her maid of honour, Tom stole away by
himself. Before the church the ridge sloped gently away, giving an
unobstructed view of the valley. The evening was a perfect one, and Tom
enjoyed one of those rare moments when one feels in complete accord with
everything. All around him were the sights and sounds of bucolic
tranquillity; and within, apart from the comfortable effects of the
Dean's wine and cigar, were such melting thoughts as we may only guess
at. Life was now just beginning for him--and how good it was!

The sun died in ever darkening carmine. Tom flicked the ash