"Why not?"
"At the last moment a hitch occurred, sir."
"Don't tell me the new clergyman sprained his ankle, too?"
"No, sir. The presiding minister continues to enjoy good health in every respect. The hitch to which I allude was caused by a young woman who, claiming to be an old friend of the bridegroom, entered the room where the guests were assembled and created some little disturbance, sir."
Mr. Waddington's eyes bulged.
"Tell me about this," he said.
The butler fixed a fathomless gaze on the wall beyond him.
"I was not actually present at the scene myself, sir. But one of the lower servants, who chanced to be glancing in at the door, has apprised me of the details of the occurrence. It appears that, just as the wedding-party was about to start off for the church, a young woman suddenly made her way through the French windows opening to the lawn, and, pausing in the entrance, observed 'George! George! Why did you desert me? You don't belong to that girl there. You belong to me,—the woman you have wronged!' Addressing Mr. Finch, I gather."
Mr. Waddington's eyes were now protruding to such a dangerous extent that a sharp jerk would have caused them to drop off.
"Sweet suffering soup-spoons! What happened then?"