There came a rap at the door.
Wynnette, who was nearest at hand, opened it.
“Tell your mother, my dear, that the Rev. Dr. Priestly has come,” said Mr. Force, who stood without.
But Mrs. Force had heard the voice, and answered for herself:
“We are ready and waiting. Come in.”
He entered, smiling on the bevy of beauties that met his eyes.
He singled out his daughter, kissed her on the forehead, and drew her arm in his to take her downstairs, mentally applying to her the pretty line of Tennyson:
“Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.”
He led her down and the others followed in pairs.
He led her into the parlor, where stood the portly form of the Rev. Dr. Priestly, in full canonicals, and surrounded by a small group of four young men—to wit: Leonidas Force, the bridegroom; Roland Bayard, his best man; and Messrs. Ned and Sam Grandiere, nothing in particular.