she did with such grace that observant nice people used to say to the next person they met :

"Isn't Miss Beadon sweet?"

George would then read from the News or the Mail (the Mail existed in those days and there was no Chronicle in the field-Manchester field, of course).

Gordon had died at Khartoum and the topic was romantically tragic. George explained matters and talked about Egypt and mummies and Rameses the Second till Margaret said:

"George, dear, you didn't get that knowledge out of a circulating library at one volume one penny per week."

George confessed he did not and talked of his own book treasures. He began to read to the little circle at nights and was often interrupted by the shop bell and Margaret's: "Now don't go on, dear, till I come back, put your finger on the place."

"As if I should!" he would say to Mrs. Beadon, as he put back David Copperfield, or Vanity Fair, or one of Mrs. Henry Wood's-The Channings was a great favourite.

Margaret could not get out much but on Sunday afternoons she and George went walks and people seeing them would say: "Mister Harvey's walking out with Miss Beadon. . . . Isn't she nice?"

George used to go out to tea, and Thomas Ewins was at the Hollins's, so Mrs. Bowers had an easy time during her lodgers' courting days. There was no necessity for a long engagement and no desire on the part of either to put off the wedding. Moreover, Ewins, now that he was really engaged, came to the conclusion that he might just as well get married

because his wife would help to carry on the home. So George and he decided to leave Mrs. Bowers and embark on matrimony on the same day.

In the ordinary way each might have been the other's best man, but since both filled the more important part of groom that was not possible. George Harvey's best man was Mr. Walter Jupp, a chemist who kept a shop on the Manchester Road, some little way nearer the station than Mrs. Beadon's, and knew almost as much about first editions as his friend. He said it was time George got married and he would gladly do what he could to help him to push off his boat on the sea of matrimony.

Mrs. Beadon gave her daughter away and the only other people who were present as guests were a Ralph Higgins and his wife, Mrs. Higgins, being an old friend of Margaret's.

Mrs. Hollins had quite a swagger wedding for her daughter and as the Harvey-Beadon affair followed it after an interval of half an hour, the church was then empty of sightseers and rice throwers.

Margaret was very beautiful: not so much in the strikingness of her features, as in the radiancy of her expression. To her usual sweetness there was added a glow of excitement, a mingling of modesty with pure happiness. She wore a tailor-made costume, for they were going to partake of breakfast at Mr. Jupp's and then the bride and groom were going to Buxton for three days, and was helped in her final arrangements by Alice Higgins, who went with her husband to Mrs. Beadon's before the ceremony, when they all came to the church together in a cab after the shop had been locked up for the day.

George Harvey was dressed in a frock coat and

white waistcoat, and a pair of grey striped trousers. His silk hat was not new but it was freshly ironed for the occasion, and he had watched from a side pew the grand wedding of his friend, Thomas Ewins.

"It does seem quiet, after that," he whispered to his friend, Walter Jupp.

"Never mind: you'll be married just as well and maybe he'll only charge you half as much.”

"You rogue!"

"Go on! It's you that's a rogue, waiting all this time getting married."

George whispered: "It was worth waiting for . . Suppose I'd got married before! Lor . . . It was worth waiting for, eh, Walter . . .?"

"Aye, George, you're right there."

All this was in the church, at the foot of the chancel, where light streamed through stained glass windows and that musty, human smell pervaded the place.

"She's here," suddenly said George and he made a movement to meet her.

Walter Jupp caught him by the arm and whispered: "You stop where you are. And don't kiss her, mind, yet. Don't do more than wink at her. Got the ring?" George fumbled nervously and whispered triumphantly, "Yes."

The Curate, the Rev. John O'Kelly, smiled. He was a man with a very jolly smile and was very human, and officiated at this wedding because the rector had proceeded as a guest to Mrs. Hollins's.

George Harvey said "Yes" almost joyfully, as if he wasn't afraid of letting his voice be heard in an affair of this kind, and Margaret said "Yes" as if she

would like at the same time to thank God for his goodness.

And when the service was over and George kissed her as his wife, he felt a little humble as well as proud to be her husband. She turned and kissed her mother, who wept in joy. And when the register was being signed Mr. Jupp made jokes and the Reverend Mr. O'Kelly laughed till it all seemed like a jolly family party.

Mrs. Jupp had been superintending the culinary arrangements, a business in which she was excellent. She was a devoted wife but could rarely be prevailed upon to see a joke, and as Walter Jupp was constantly indulging a merry and at times riotous fancy, she found occasions in life in which she had to declare she was not sure whether her husband had gone off his head or not. But Walter didn't mind; he was not particular whether his jokes and schemes fell on stony ground or brought forth a hundred fold of laughter; he and his wife got on wondrously well together. And he liked his friends and did them well. Mrs. Hollins was giving a more luxurious spread and there were many invited, but Mrs. Jupp's table made her guests feel that nobody on earth could want more or better than she gave-well, if they could, they oughtn't.

Thomas Ewins, after being mixed up in a most gorgeous wedding (that was how the affair struck him) went with his bride to North Wales, because it was healthy and did not run away with too much money and yet sounded well. George and Mrs. Harvey went. to Buxton, from Ganton Station, in a third-class carriage, saying to each other at lucid intervals of per

fect intelligibility all those small things valued of lovers and preposterous to third parties.

"My wife!" once with the deep note of affection, enough to bring tears to her eyes, for the well of emotion is stirred on a wedding day: and at other times with the air of one introducing coldly as if it had been done hundreds of times already: "My wife!" And then the beaming smiles and she held his hand tightly and sighed.

They had engaged their rooms before going on a recommendation from Alice Higgins, who had stayed there, and gave the landlady a handsome testimonial for good cooking and home comforts.

At Stockport, where they changed and waited for the Buxton train, Margaret found herself looking at other women, who sat or stood or walked about. She was disappointed: so many looked as if they were not really happy. Some looked comfortable, some weary, some excited. One young face pleased her: it was that of a pretty girl who was evidently seeing a lover off. She stood on the step of the carriage and insisted on kissing him again (and being kissed) just before the train went out.

Margaret was in sympathy with the girl at once. She wanted to go up to her and say, "Are you happy, too?"

Then she saw a mother with a child. A little hand beat the air Margaret stole forward a yard to look at it and a pair of big eyes stared and then a tiny face smiled.

Margaret was thrilled. She looked at George. "Isn't it lovely?" she said.

"Yes."

And then she blushed and held his arm very tightly.