"Absolutely sickening! A clergyman, and not able to stand on a chair without falling off!" A sudden, gruesome thought struck him. "Hamilton! What's it a sign of when the clergyman falls off a chair and sprains his ankle on the morning of the wedding?"
"How do you mean, what is it a sign of?"
"I mean, is it bad luck?"
"For the clergyman, undoubtedly."
"You don't think it means that anything is going to go wrong with the wedding?"
"I have never heard of any such superstition. You must endeavour to control these fancies, George. You are allowing yourself to get into a thoroughly overwrought condition."
"Well, what sort of a condition do you expect a fellow to be in on his wedding-morning, with clergymen falling off chairs wherever he looks?"
Hamilton smiled tolerantly.
"I suppose nerves are inevitable on such an occasion. I notice that even Sigsbee H., who can scarcely consider himself a principal in this affair, is thoroughly jumpy. He was walking on the lawn some little time ago, and when I came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder, he leaped like a startled roe. If Sigsbee H. Waddington possessed a mind, I would say that there was something on it. No doubt he is brooding on the West again."
The sun was still shining brightly, but somehow the day seemed to George to have grown overcast and chill. A grey foreboding had come upon him.