“Certainly,” said Van Bibber. “You were about to make a fatal mistake. You were about to go to some unknown clergyman of an unknown parish, who would have married you in a back room, without a certificate or a witness, just like any eloping farmer's daughter and lightning-rod agent. Now it's different with you two. Why you were not married respectably in church I don't know, and I do not intend to ask, but a kind Providence has sent me to you to see that there is no talk nor scandal, which is such bad form, and which would have got your names into all the papers. I am going to arrange this wedding properly, and you will kindly remain here until I send a carriage for you. Now just rely on me entirely and eat your luncheon in peace. It's all going to come out right--and allow me to recommend the salad, which is especially good.” Van Bibber first drove madly to the Little Church Around the Corner, where he told the kind old rector all about it, and arranged to have the church open and the assistant organist in her place, and a district-messenger boy to blow the bellows, punctually at three o'clock. “And now,” he soliloquized, “I must get some names. It doesn't matter much whether they happen to know the high contracting parties or not, but they must be names that everybody knows. Whoever is in town will be lunching at Delmonico's, and the men will be at the clubs.” So he first went to the big restaurant, where, as good luck would have it, he found Mrs. “Regy” Van Arnt and Mrs. “Jack” Peabody, and the Misses Brookline, who had run up the Sound for the day on the yacht _Minerva_ of the Boston Yacht Club, and he told them how things were and swore them to secrecy, and told them to bring what men they could pick up. At the club he pressed four men into service who knew everybody and whom everybody knew, and when they protested that they had not been properly invited and that they only knew the bride and groom by sight, he told them that made no difference, as it was only their names he wanted. Then he sent a messenger boy to get the biggest suit of rooms on the Fall River boat and another one for flowers, and then he put Mrs. “Regy” Van Arnt into a cab and sent her after the bride, and, as best man, he got into another cab and carried off the groom. “I have acted either as best man or usher forty-two times now,” said Van Bibber, as they drove to the church, “and this is the first time I ever appeared in either capacity in russia-leather shoes and a blue serge yachting suit. But then,” he added, contentedly, “you ought to see the other fellows. One of them is in a striped flannel.”