in, she
turned and began to push the other way, roaring, meantime, "Eik! Eik!
Uzdaryk-duris!" in tones which made the orchestral uproar sound like
fairy music.

"Z. Graiczunas, Pasilinksminimams darzas. Vynas. Sznapsas. Wines and
Liquors. Union Headquarters"--that was the way the signs ran. The
reader, who perhaps has never held much converse in the language of
far-off Lithuania, will be glad of the explanation that the place was
the rear room of a saloon in that part of Chicago known as "back of the
yards." This information is definite and suited to the matter of fact;
but how pitifully inadequate it would have seemed to one who understood
that it was also the supreme hour of ecstasy in the life of one of
God's gentlest creatures, the scene of the wedding feast and the
joy-transfiguration of little Ona Lukoszaite!

She stood in the doorway, shepherded by Cousin Marija, breathless from
pushing through the crowd, and in her happiness painful to look upon.
There was a light of wonder in her eyes and her lids trembled, and
her otherwise wan little face was flushed. She wore a muslin dress,
conspicuously white, and a stiff little veil coming to her shoulders.
There were five pink paper roses twisted in the veil, and eleven bright
green rose leaves. There were new white cotton gloves upon her hands,
and as she stood staring about her she twisted them together feverishly.
It was almost too much for her--you could see the pain of too great
emotion in her face, and all the tremor of her form. She was so
young--not quite sixteen--and small for her age, a mere child; and she
had just been married--and married to Jurgis,* (*Pronounced Yoorghis) of
all men, to Jurgis Rudkus, he with the white flower in the buttonhole of
his new black suit, he with the mighty shoulders and the giant hands.

Ona was blue-eyed and fair, while Jurgis had great black eyes with
beetling brows, and thick black hair that curled in waves about his
ears--in short, they were one of those incongruous and impossible
married couples with which Mother Nature so often wills to
confound all prophets, before and after. Jurgis could take up a
two-hundred-and-fifty-pound quarter of beef and carry it into a car
without a stagger, or even a thought; and now he stood in a far corner,
frightened as a hunted animal, and obliged to moisten his lips with
his tongue each time before he could answer the congratulations of his
friends.

Gradually there was effected a separ