At six o'clock the little church was well filled. In spite of Graham's teasing, Peggy's humble friends could hardly be distinguished from their so-called betters. Hildegarde Carey, slender and elegant, sat in the pew behind Elvira Bond, and noticed nothing peculiar except that Elvira blew her nose oftener and with more emphasis than is customary on such occasions. It was either that or weep, and Elvira chose the least of the two evils. As for Jimmy Dunn, with his purple necktie and a large scarfpin that resembled a diamond, he was fairly resplendent.
The march pealed out and the people rose. Up the aisle came the bridesmaids walking very slowly. The little flower girl, all smiles, seemed as unconscious as if weddings were an old story in her experience. And then came Peggy on her father's arm, and Elvira Bond was not the only one whose eyes brimmed over as she passed.
A great deal can happen in five minutes. The organ pealed out again, and now Peggy was Mrs. Graham Wylie. She put her hand on her husband's arm and smiled up into his face, Peggy's own sunny smile. She had promised for better or for worse, but in her heart of hearts she was confident that the future held only good for the two of them. And as Graham was equally positive on that score, they went down the aisle with illumined faces.
Only a few besides the two families came to the house from the church. These, with the out-of-town guests like Elaine and Lucy, and the wedding party, filled the cosy little house to overflowing. Mary Donaldson sat in a corner, radiant; and since she could not cross the room to kiss the bride, the bride crossed to kiss her.
It was after the chicken salad had been disposed of, and they were passing the ice cream, that Peggy's attention focussed itself on her new friend, Mr. Kennedy. He stood by himself for the moment and his face was rather grave for a young man, a guest at a wedding. But as he caught her eye, he smiled resolutely and came over to her.
"I'm sorry you're going away, Mrs. Wylie, just as I met you. It doesn't seem fair."
"I'm sorry, too," said Peggy. "If we'd only known that night at the Green Parrot that you were a friend of Graham's it would have simplified matters so much."
Mr. Kennedy's face again lost its smile. He turned and looked the company over. "Your friend Hitchcock isn't here to-night, is he?"
Peggy was delighted. She had been wishing for a chance to bring Horace into the conversation, and here Mr. Kennedy had done it himself. When again the young man looked at her, he was almost startled by the radiant mischief of her face.
"Horace Hitchcock here? Oh, dear, no! I can't think of anybody I'd be less likely to ask to my wedding."