hese ideas ran through his head, and a
glance at the clock showed him that he was half an hour too soon,
consequent upon being hurried off by his friend.

"What shall I do?" he thought. "No time to go anywhere else; I'll drop
in and hang about in the church as if I did not belong to the party."

Easier said than done. Already there was a little crowd collecting,
attracted by the carpet laid up the steps--a little gathering of the
people who always do attend weddings--those who wait till the bride
arrives and then hurry in to see the service, and those who, being in
charge of perambulators, keep entirely outside and block up pavement and
porch. Then, too, there were the customary maiden ladies, the officials
of the church, the bell ringers, the woman from the crossing at the
corner of the square in a clean apron, the butchers', bakers', and
fishmongers' boys, and the children--especially those in a top-heavy
condition from carrying other children, nearly as big as themselves.

Percy Guest was conscious of a whisper and a buzzing sound as he walked
through the gates in what he intended to be a nonchalant fashion, but
which proved to be very conscious, and then most conscious as a boy
cried:

"'Ere he is, Bill!"

Fortunately the church door was close at hand, but before he entered he
was aware that the turncock had joined the throng with three bright
instruments over his shoulder, as if his services were likely to be
wanted toward the end.

Percy Guest breathed more freely as he stepped into the gloom of the
silent church, but was again disconcerted by the beadle in his best
gold-braided coat, holding open a green baize door and two pew openers
stepping forward apparently bent upon showing him the way up to the
chancel.

"Thanks: I'll just look round," he said carelessly; but the words did
not convey his meaning, and as he walked slowly into one of the side
aisles to study tablets and monuments, he could not read a word for
thinking that the two pew openers had seen through him.

"What a fool I am!" he muttered. "Of course they know. Even smell me.
Wish I hadn't used that scent."

An archaeologist could not have taken more apparent interest than he in
that tablet covered with lines of all lengths, setting forth the good
qualities of Robert Smith, "late of this parish," but the study was
accompanied by furtive glances at a watch during the longest quarter of
an hour the young man ever remembered to have spen