Henrietta's wedding was rather a quiet one, as weddings went in Whitby. That is, there were not many more people there than the old cream-colored house could accommodate comfortably, so that the overflow would not have more than half filled the yard; which was lucky, as the yard was already nearly half full of automobiles and carriages, tightly packed by the wall. There was a long string of them in the road, too. But as it was a lovely summer day, the first really warm day of the summer, and as the birds were singing madly in the orchard as though they knew it was a very special occasion and one to be celebrated accordingly, and as the orchard was a very inviting place with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the apple trees, and as the view over the little valley was more attractive than the most beautiful interior of old houses, and as--well, without continuing the catalogue of reasons, the people gradually drifted outside, two at a time. They formed a cluster around the well-sweep; a cluster whose composition was continually changing. Having given as much voice to their admiration of the well-sweep as they thought was expected of them, they wandered on and scattered and drew together into other groups and scattered again; and by a repetition of this process little clusters were formed, at last, that had no tendency to scatter. There were two groups in particular whose composition was changing, even yet, and changing very rapidly. They were, for all the world, like swarms of ants, the component individuals continually coming and going like ants which were very busy and very intent on their business. These individuals would hurry up and join the group at its outer edge, and push and struggle to get to the centre, while others seemed equally eager to get out. So that there was a continual movement and jostling. But if you could have looked into the centre of either of these groups, you would have seen--no, not the bride; you would have seen either a great bowl of punch or a table loaded with good things, or their remains--no more than the wrecks of things. As to the bride, she had slipped away.