r no ceremony, these two who had met and loved by the way in
the wilderness. They went straight to Mrs. Benedict for her blessing, and
then to the minister to arrange for his services; and within the week a
quiet wedding-party entered the arched doors of the placid brown church
with the lofty spire, and Elizabeth Bailey and George Benedict were united
in the sacred bonds of matrimony.

There were present Mrs. Benedict and one or two intimate friends of the
family, besides Grandmother Brady, Aunt Nan, and Lizzie.

Lizzie brought a dozen bread-and-butter-plates from the ten-cent store.
They were adorned with cupids and roses and much gilt. But Lizzie was
disappointed. No display, no pomp and ceremony. Just a simple white dress
and white veil. Lizzie did not understand that the veil had been in the
Bailey family for generations, and that the dress was an heirloom also. It
was worn because Grandmother Bailey had given it to her, and told her she
wanted her to wear it on her wedding-day. Sweet and beautiful she looked
as she turned to walk down the aisle on her husband's arm, and she smiled
at Grandmother Brady in a way that filled the grandmother's heart with
pride and triumph. Elizabeth was not ashamed of the Bradys even among her
fine friends. But Lizzie grumbled all the way home at the plainness of the
ceremony, and the lack of bridesmaids and fuss and feathers.

The social column of the daily papers stated that young Mr. and Mrs.
George Benedict were spending their honeymoon in an extended tour of the
West, and Grandmother Brady so read it aloud at the breakfast table to the
admiring family. Only Lizzie looked discontented:

"She just wore a dark blue tricotine one-piece dress and a little plain
dark hat. She ain't got a bit of taste. Oh _Boy_! If I just had her pocket
book wouldn't I show the world? But anyhow I'm glad she went in a private
car. There was a _little_ class to her, though if t'had been mine I'd uv
preferred ridin' in the parlor coach an' havin' folks see me and my fine
husband. He's some looker, George Benedict is! Everybody turns to watch
'em as they go by, and they just sail along and never seem to notice. It's
all perfectly throwed away on 'em. Gosh! I'd hate to be such a nut!"

"Now, Lizzie, you know you hadn't oughtta talk like that!" reproved her
grandmother, "After her giving you all that money fer your own wedding. A
thousand dollars just to spend as you please on your cloes and a blow out,
an