But, during this rush and hubbub, how about Frank? Poor boy! Now, if you think that a young lad at such an instant is as calm as a mill-pond, you don't know romantic Youth, that's all. About forty of Gadsby's old Organization boys, now manly young chaps, had bought him a car, which Nancy was _not_ to know anything about until that throwing of old boots, and what is also customary, had quit. Frank didn't want to hold it back from Nancy, but what can a chap do, against forty? Also, last night, at a big "so sorry, old chap" party, Frank had found how loyal a bunch of old pals can turn out; and this "grand launching into matrimonial doubt" had put him in a happy mood for that all important oration of two words:--"I do." So now I'll hurry around to church to find out how Nancy's Organization girls put in a long day of hard labor; not only at floor work, but up on stools and chairs. My! My! Just _look_ and gasp!! A long chain of lilacs runs from door to altar in two rows. And _look_ at that big arch of wistaria and narcissus half way along! Artificial palms stand in curving ranks from organ to walls; and, with all lights softly glowing through pink silk hoods; and with gilt cords outlining an altar-dais of moss and sprays of asparagus, it is a sight to bring a thrill to anybody, young or old. And, now--_aha!!_ With organist and Pastor waiting, a murmur and hand-clapping from that big front door told all who had luckily got in that Nancy was coming! It took thirty cars to bring that bridal party to church; for not a boy or girl of our old Organization would miss this occasion for a farm, with a pig on it with four kinks in its tail. Now, naturally, any girl would long to walk up that Holy path with Nancy, but too many would spoil things; so, by drawing lots, Nancy had for company, Sarah Young, Lucy Donaldson, Priscilla Standish, Virginia Adams, Doris Johnson and Cora Grant; with Kathlyn as Maid of Honor, as charming an array of youthful glory as you could find in all Branton Hills. Until this important arrival, Branton Hills' famous organist, just plain John Smith, was playing softly,--"Just a Song at Twilight," watching for a signal from Mayor Gadsby; and soon swung into that famous march which brought forth a grand thrill, as tiny, blushing, palpitating Nancy took "Dad's" arm, gazing with shining orbs at that distant--oh, _so_ distant--altar. Now I want to know why anybody should want to cry on such a grand occasion. What is sad about it? But many a lash was moist as that tiny vision of glamorous purity slowly trod that fragrant pathway. Possibly girls can't avoid it; anyway, our Branton Hills girls didn't try to do so.