from his surroundings than on this most
successful night. What was wrong with him? he asked himself. Why was he
unlike all other men? Why was he forced to feel like an unwilling
interloper among people he could not understand and who did not
understand him? But what did it matter? Tilly was his, all his, and in a
short while he would be bearing her away. In a short while he and she
would be left unmolested in their cozy home. He and she alone, away from
all that gaping, meddling throng. What happiness! But how could it be?

Cavanaugh came to him out of breath. "Good gracious! Where have you
been?" the old man cried. "I'll be hanged if I wasn't afraid you'd got
scared, turned tail, and run off and hid. You oughtn't to have treated
the old man like that right on the start. You and him will have to sort
of pull together in future. He is thick-skinned, but he looked sort of
flabbergasted when you whisked off just now with that snort of yours.
Come on. They are going out to supper, and there will be no end of talk
if you don't take part. They've got a lot of lemonade in there, and
somebody may want to drink your health. If they do, for the Lord's sake
stand up like a man and say, 'Thank you,' if nothing more. Remember how
well you done when the corner-stone was laid."

John smiled faintly, and the two went back into the parlor as the guests
were filing out into the dining-room. Tilly was waiting for him at the
door.

"I'm hungry. Aren't you?" she asked. "I want some of that chicken salad.
I know it is good, for I made it."

The dining-room was furnished with two long impromptu tables made of
rough boards covered with white cloths and flanked by rows of chairs,
stools, benches, and inverted boxes. Whaley stood at the head of one of
the tables, his wife at the head of the other. Near the center of one
two bows of white ribbons marked the seats reserved for the bride and
bridegroom. Tilly called John's attention to them and somehow he managed
to lead her to them, but he failed to do what he ought to have done. He
did not draw Tilly's chair back and place it for her use, but stood
staring helplessly while she did it herself. Then he sat down beside
her. All were seated now and Whaley rapped on the edge of his plate,
producing a tinkling sound that invoked silence.

"Now," he said, solemnly, "it is our duty to ask the blessing of our
Creator on what we are about to receive, and as the parson had to leave,
I'll call on Brothe