still breathing and walking on air. Isn't that so, Doctor?"
"Quite,—quite so, I am sure."
"Let me take a peep out there, Aylesworth. I'd like to get my bearings."
"Pray do not be dismayed by the—" began the minister.
"Hullo! There's Bramby sitting in the front seat,—my word, I've never known him to look so seraphic. Old Fogazario, and de Bosky, and—yes, there's Mirabeau, and the amiable Mrs. Moses Jacobs. 'Gad, she's resplendent! Du Bara and Herman and— By Jove, they're all here, every one of them. I say, Aylesworth, what time is it? I wonder if anything can have happened to Jane? Run out to the sidewalk, old chap, and have a look, will you? I—"
"Are all bridegrooms like this?" inquired Aylesworth drily, addressing the bewildered minister.
"Here she is!" sang out the bridegroom, leaping toward the little vestibule. "Thank heaven, Jane! I thought you'd met with an accident or— My God! How lovely you are, darling! Isn't she, Aylesworth?"
"Permit me to present you, Doctor, to Lady Jane Thorne," interposed Aylesworth. "And to the Baroness Brangwyng."
From that moment on, the little divine was in a daze. He didn't know what to make of anything. Everything was wrong and yet everything was right! How could it be?
How was he to know that his quaint, unpretentious little church was half-full of masked men and women?
