s old buoyancy of spirit until the day when they told him J. W,
would be home next week.

It was then that he told himself, "If J.W. has come back with only a
story to tell"--and gloom was in his face; "But if he has come back with
_the_ story to tell"--and his heart leaped within him at the thought.

The pastor and J.W. were soon talking away with the old familiarity,
but mostly about inconsequentials. Neither was quite prepared for more
intimate communion; and, of course, the returning traveler had much to
do. The wedding was near at hand, and everybody but himself had been
getting ready this long time. So the call was too brief to suit either
of them, with the longer visits each hoped for of necessity deferred to
a more convenient season.

J.W. must make a hurried journey to Saint Louis to turn in his report
to Peter McDougall, which report Peter was much better prepared to
receive than J.W. suspected. And a highly satisfactory arrangement was
made for J.W.'s continued connection with the Cummings Hardware
Corporation.

Doubtless all weddings are much alike in their ceremonial aspects; short
or long, solemn-spoken ancient ritual or commonplace legal form, the
essence of them all is that this man and this woman say, "I will." So it
was in Walter Drury's study. And then the little group seated itself
about the pastor; Marty with Alma Wetherell, soon to become Mrs. Marty;
all the Shenks, the elder Farwells, John Wesley, Jr., and Jeannette. The
dinner would not be for an hour yet, and this was the pastor's time.

Pastor Drury could not talk much. He had kept his chair as he read the
ritual, and now he sat and smiled quietly on them all. But once and
again his eye sought J.W. and the look was a question yet unanswered.

"What sort of a voyage home did you have?" Mrs. Farwell asked her son,
motherlike, using even a query about the weather to turn attention to
her boy.

"A good voyage, mother," said J.W. "A fine voyage. But one day--will
you let me tell it here, all of you? I've hardly been any more eager
for my wedding day than for a chance to say this. I won't tire you, Mr.
Drury, will I?"

"You'll never do that, my boy," said the preacher. "But don't bother
about me, I've long had a feeling that what you are going to say will be
better for me than all the doctors." For he had seen the eager glow on
J.W.'s face, and his heart was ready to be glad.

Thus it was that J.W. told the story of his great moment; how he