Above all, I should like to have you look in with me at the parsonage, in the study, where the minister and his wife stopped to break the seal of that special envelope after it was all over; how he rubbed his eyes, and looked, and looked again, and turned pale, and said, huskily:
"There is some mistake here, Mary; he has given me the wrong paper."
And how she came and looked over his shoulder, and said:
"Why, it has your full name. How can there be a mistake?" And then she read, "Pay to Rev. Henry Ramsey, or order, one thousand dollars. —— ——."
Who ever heard of such a marriage-fee as that!
Oh, now, I have; there have been just such marriage-fees as that, really and truly. There had been such before Harold Chessney and Claire Benedict were married, and there will be such again. There are poor ministers and grand, rich men, and there will be, I presume, while the world stands. More things than some people dream of are going on in this world of ours.
There is one thing which it gives me great pleasure to record. There was a reception given in the old home. It was after mamma and Dora had been established for several days in their old rooms, and it was the evening after the arrival of the bride and groom, and Estelle Mitchell was invited to the reception. Not because her brother Dick had been intimate with one of the Chessneys, but because because—
"My brother Harold gave me liberty to invite whoever I pleased among my classmates, and it would give me pleasure to see you there."
Dora spoke truth. It really gave her great pleasure to see Estelle Mitchell at the wedding reception of the Chessneys, and to realize that she was her guest!
"Oh, you wicked, wicked Dora!" some of them said, when the excitement caused by the reception cards was at his height, "there you heard us talking about the new furniture, and wondering as to who was the bride, and you never gave us so much as a hint!"