Then Gladys, who had also worldly wisdom, although of a crude and vulgar sort, spoke. "Folks are goin' to talk like the old Harry if we stay in here all night," said she, "and besides, there's no knowin' what is a safe place to go into." "That is so," said Wollaston, gloomily, "and I--have not much money with me." "I've got money enough," Maria said, suddenly. "There are ten dollars in my pocket-book I gave you to keep." "My!" said Gladys. Wollaston brightened for a moment, then his face clouded again. "Well, I don't know as that makes it much better," said he. "I don't quite see how to manage. They are so particular in hotels now, that I don't know as I can get you into a decent one. As for myself, I don't care. I can look out for myself, but I don't know what to do with you, Maria." Gladys made a little run and stepped in front of them. "There ain't but one thing you can do, so Maria won't git talked about all the rest of her life, and I kin tell you what it is," said she. "What is it?" asked Wollaston, in a burst of anger. "I call it a pretty pickle we are in, for my part. Ten chances to one, Mr. Edgham has got the baby back home safe and sound by this time, anyway, and here we are, here is Maria!" "There ain't but one thing you can do," said Gladys. Her tone was forcible. She was full of the vulgar shrewdness of a degenerate race, for the old acumen of that race had sharpened her wits. "What! in Heaven's name?" cried Wollaston. The three had been slowly walking along, and had stopped near a church, which was lighted. As they were talking the lights went out. A thin stream of people ceased issuing from the open doors. A man in a clerical dress approached them, walking quite rapidly. He was evidently bound, from the trend of his steps, to a near-by house, which was his residence. "Git married," said Gladys, abruptly. Then, before the others realized what she was doing, she darted in front of the approaching clergyman. "They want to git married," said she. The clergyman stopped and stared at her, then at the couple beyond, who were quite speechless with astonishment. He was inconceivably young for his profession. He was small, and had a round, rollicking face, which he was constantly endeavoring to draw down into lines of asceticism. "Who wants to get married?" asked the clergyman. "Them two," replied Gladys, succinctly. She pointed magisterially at Wollaston and Maria. Wollaston was tall and manly looking for his age, Maria's dress touched the ground. The clergyman had not, at the moment, a doubt as to their suitable age. He was not a brilliant young man, naturally. He had been pushed through college and into his profession by wealthy relatives, and, moreover, with his stupidity, he had a certain spirit of recklessness and sense of humor which gave life a spice for him. "Want to get married, eh?" he said.