eagerly.

"Mr. Brewster is at home and totally oblivious to all this," cried Jack
Barnes. "I don't know what it means. Here's the license, Jimmy. Are you
ready, Marjory?"

"This is rather a squeamish business, Jack--" began the young minister
in the negligee shirt. He was pulling on his coat as he made the remark.

"Oh, hurry, Jimmy; please hurry!" cried Marjory Brewster.

"Don't wait a second, Jimmy Bracken!" cried Amy Crosby, dancing with
excitement. "You can't go back on them now!"

Three minutes later there was no Marjory Brewster, but there was a Mrs.
John Ethelbert Barnes--and she was kissing her husband rapturously.

"Now, tell us everything," cried Mrs. Crosby after the frantic
congratulations. The Reverend "Jimmy" Bracken, of the Eleventh
Presbyterian Church, was the only one who seemed uncertain as to his
position. In the first place, old Judge Brewster was a man of influence
in the metropolis, from which all had fled for a sojourn in the hills.
He and his daughter were Episcopalians, but that made them none the less
important in the eyes of "Jimmy" Bracken. In the second place, Jack
Barnes was a struggling lawyer, in the Year of our Lord 1880, and
possessed of objectionable poverty. The young men had been room-mates at
college. Friendship had overcome discretion in this instance, at least.
The deed being done, young Mr. Bracken was beginning to wonder if it had
not been overdone, so to speak.

"I wish somebody would tell me!" exclaimed Jack Barnes, with a perplexed
frown. "The beastly jays shot at us and all that. You'd think I was an
outlaw. And they blazed away at Marjory, too, hang them!"

Marjory, too excited to act like a blushing bride, took up the story and
told all that had happened. George Crosby became so interested that he
forgot to keep guard.

"This is a funny mess!" he exclaimed. "There's something wrong--"

"Hey, you!" came a shout from the outside.

"There they are!" cried Marjory, flying to her husband's side. "What are
we to do?"

"You mean, what are they to do? We're married, and they can't get around
that, you know. Let 'em come!" cried the groom exultantly. "You don't
regret it, do you, sweetheart?" quite anxiously. She smiled up into his
eyes, and he felt very secure.

"What do you fellows want?" demanded Crosby from the window. Anderson
Crow was standing on the river bank like a true Napoleon, flanked by
three trusty riflemen.

"Who air you?" asked Anderson in return. H