ing madly; Tim and Davy arose, and went bounding after
them with whoops of joy, and above the din arose Polly's loud squall,
in a most unseasonable complaint about the dullness of the times.

Everybody declared afterward that no woman in the county of Simcoe
could have brought order out of that chaos except Susan Winters. She
drove out the noisy intruders with the broomstick, silenced the two
uproarious wedding guests with the same instrument, and brought the
hilarious company to something like decorum by ordering them to form in
procession for the wedding dinner. A slight delay occurred when it was
found that Jake and Hannah Sawyer were missing. Attracted by agonized
shrieks from the direction of their home, they left precipitately, and
several of the wedding guests, unacquainted with the orphans' ways,
followed them in consternation. They soon returned, however. Jake had
liberated the twins by sawing the washstand asunder, and the parents
brought the two unfortunates with them. Even Mrs. Winters made them
welcome when she saw their tearful faces, and they joined the
procession, profoundly thankful for the untoward circumstance that had
produced such joyful results.

But the little episode had another happy outcome that made the
bridegroom's eyes shine with something deeper than even his own joy.
Just as the fantastic figure of Rebekah had disappeared into the
kitchen, the groomsman touched Martin's arm gently, and whispered,
"Look at McIntyre!" The bridegroom turned; his grave, silent friend
had been watching the grotesque little creature with a smile slowly
breaking over his face, and when Tim arose, with a yell, and bounded
after her, John McIntyre threw back his head and laughed. Yes, the
repellant, dark-faced watchman laughed, a deep, hearty, joyous laugh,
and the sound of it brought a smarting mist to the kindly, watching
eyes of his friend.

The procession was soon formed, and it slowly moved out through the
front door, across the tiny garden, and down the shady avenue of the
orchard. Very proudly the big bridegroom walked with his little bride
on his arm. She was no longer drooping and pathetic-looking now, but
erect and radiant. Behind came their two attendants, Gilbert's
wondering eyes watching the changing bronze and gold of the
bridesmaid's hair, as the sunlight and the green shadows alternately
played over it. The minister and the triumphant mistress of ceremonies
came next, followed by the