Mary Johnson, Updyke's assistant, had seen to all that by personally making the rounds of Newspaper Row. A camera man, as if dropped from the clouds, seemed somewhat officious to the townspeople of Patchogue, when he posed the young couple on the steps of the church. Just how a young fellow with tripod and camera could halt with his hand a great host of people, and sweep them this way and that until they posed artistically about the bride and groom, was something to ponder on. In the doing of this there was some rivalry by way of holding one's own in "the limelight," but the camera was newfangled, and it revolved either way sufficiently to take in the most prominent of those in the wake of the bride--and much to the mystification of more than one person. It was Old Man Carmichel's turn to again become facetious. "I'll be switched if I c'n see how they take pitchers with a contraption that won't stay put," said he, his eyes showing his mystification. "It must be broke, or somethin'." "It's a movin' pitcher kodak--ain't you ever seen 'um before?" queried the man beside him. "Yeh--I've seen 'um twicet as big," said Carmichel moving within range of the strange machine. After depositing the Carvers at their new home Updyke refused the invitation to alight, but Winifred, the bride, would not have it so, and she caught up one of his big hands and called to her husband to help her. "Just think, after all of the trouble I have caused you, now you refuse to take a little bit more, to see how George has busied himself of late," she pouted, playfully. "You've just got to or I'll jump up and kiss you before everybody passing by." "Well, I don't want Mary's nose to get out of joint," said the big fellow, clambering down to the pavement. "Mary!--Mary who?" she demanded, as with her husband on one side and herself on the other, they dragged him into the new cottage. There, with one poke of Carver's forefinger he touched a master button which set every light globe going from cellar to roof. In the excitement of entering her new home for the first time, Winifred forgot the word "Mary" for quite a long time. The little place was yet to be furnished, and that was "Winifred's job," according to Carver, and meanwhile they would "put up" at "The White House," only a few blocks away. George's plans had been splendid, far better than she could have figured out for herself. "What shall we call it?" she cried, enthusiastically. "Think up a good name for our new home, Mr. Updyke." "The Gambler's Paradise," he replied soberly. "You horrid thing--how could you think of such a name!" scolded Winifred. "Well--didn't George take a big gamble when he waylaid Parkins? He might have been shot, you know." "Oh, my darling George, come here and let me kiss you!" she demanded. "Wasn't he brave, Mr. Updyke?" "All gamblers are brave as long as----"