Morris and Helen, the former quite as much
astonished at meeting Mark as Wilford had been. There was no time for
conversation, and hurriedly introducing Helen as Miss Lennox, Morris
followed her into the carriage with the bridal pair, and was driven to
the depot, where they were joined by Mark, whose pleasant, good-humored
sallies did much toward making the parting more cheerful than it would
otherwise have been. It was sad enough at the most, and Katy's eyes were
very red, while Wilford was beginning to look chagrined and impatient,
when at last the train swept around the corner and the very last good-by
was said. Many of the village people were there to see Katy off, and in
the crowd Mark had no means of distinguishing the Barlows from the
others except it were by the fond caresses given to the bride. Aunt
Betsy he had observed from all the rest, both from the hanging of her
pongee and the general quaintness of her attire, and thinking it just
possible that it might be the lady of herrin' bone memory, he touched
Wilford's arm as she passed them by, and said:

"Tell me, Will, quick, who is that woman in the poke bonnet and short,
slim dress?"

Wilford was just then too much occupied in his efforts to rescue Katy
from the crowd of plebeians who had seized upon her to hear his friend's
query, but Helen heard it, and with a cheek which crimsoned with anger,
she replied:

"That, sir, is my aunt, Miss Betsy Barlow."

"I beg your pardon, I really do, I was not aware--" Mark began,
lifting his hat involuntarily, and mentally cursing himself for his
stupidity in not observing who was near to him before asking personal
questions.

With a toss of her head Helen turned away, forgetting her resentment
in the more absorbing thought that Katy was really leaving her.

The bell had rung, the heavy machinery groaned and creaked, and the long
train was under way, while from an open window a little white hand was
thrust, waving its handkerchief until the husband quietly drew it in,
experiencing a feeling of relief that all was over, and that unless he
chose, his wife need never go back again to that vulgar crowd standing
upon the platform and looking with tearful eyes and aching hearts after
the fast receding train.

For a moment Mark talked with Morris Grant, explaining how he came
there, and adding that on the morrow he, too, intended going on to
Boston, to remain for a few days before Wilford sailed; then, feeling
that he mus