Mallory's temper flared again. He cried: "This train doesn't go another step till I'm married!" He reached up and pulled the bell-rope once; in the distance the whistle sounded once. This was high treason, and the conductor advanced on him threateningly, as he seized the cord once more. "You touch that rope again, and I'll----" "Oh, no, you won't," said Mallory, as he whisked a revolver from his right pocket and jammed it into the conductor's watch-pocket. The conductor came to attention. Then Mallory, standing with his right hand on military duty, put out his left hand, and gave the word: "Now, parson." He smiled still more as he heard Kathleen's voice wailing: "But I can't find my bracelet. Where's my bracelet?" "Silence! Silence!" Dr. Temple commanded, and then: "Join hands, my children." Marjorie shifted Snoozleums to her left arm, put her right hand into Mallory's, and Dr. Temple, standing between them, began to drone the ritual. Everybody said they made a right pretty picture. When the old clergyman had done his work, the young husband-at-last graciously rescinded military law, recalled the artillery from the conductor's very midst, and remembering Manila, smiled: "You may fire when ready, conductor." The conductor's rage had cooled, and he slapped the bridegroom on the back with one hand, as he pulled the cord with the other. The train began to creak and tug and shift. The ding-dong of the bell floated murmurously back as from a lofty steeple, and the clickety-click, click-clickety-click quickened and softened into a pleasant gossip, as the speed grew, and the way was so smooth for the wheels that they seemed to be spinning on rails of velvet. THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Excuse Me!, by Rupert Hughes