Given the occasion and the organization, anybody else's picture would have done quite as well as Amory's. Amory was merely lucky to have hit on the idea at the right moment, and foolish if she thought the idea and the moment were likely ever to jump so happily together again. And if Amory didn't know this, the odds were that Mr. Dix did. This idea of Dorothy's, then (not to beat any longer about the bush), was that of the famous Wedding Week that has now passed into history. "Shopping Weeks" had been tried before, but they had struck Dorothy as "some of our Sirs" had struck Mr. Miller by comparison with the unadorned simplicity of some Misters--as "poor," "nooveau," and (to use the American expression) "bum." And yet they had paid. If those, then, had paid, such an idea as Dorothy's was likely to pay at least as well. It seemed to her that all that these highly-paid Captains of Commerce lacked was inventiveness. They could be trusted with the details, but they had no largeness of conception. They niggled where they should have drawn with a free hand: Dorothy knew that she had ideas enough to keep a dozen of them going. Hallowell & Smith's, then, were going to provide, for a week, and up to the capacity of their largest hall, free weddings. Subject to certain conditions, that varied from the purchase of a veil to the opening of a monthly account--and even these were imposed only to stem the rush that was confidently anticipated--Hallowells' would supply carriages, the breakfast, flowers, cake, music, wine, silver-paper boxes, awnings, liveries, crimson carpets, souvenirs and what not, entirely without charge, deduction, obligation, or any catch about it whatever. Between the pronouncing of the Benediction at the Church and your stepping on to the footboard of the train that was to take you away, you simply put yourself into Hallowells' hands. Indeed, it was not Hallowells' fault that they were not able to do even more for you. Certainly it was not Mr. Miller's fault. For Mr. Miller simply could not see why, if in Scotland a wedding might be celebrated in an ordinary drawing-room, in England it might not take place in an up-to-date Store. He took advice, both legal and ecclesiastical; he approached both the Church and the Registry Office; and the only result was that he found something more inaccessible even than he had found the Royal Standard to be. Hallowells', dedicated though it was (subject to the Shops' Hours Acts) to that practical form of Faith which the Apostle James offered to show by his works, still remained, in the hidebound sense that is the only one accepted of dogma, an unconsecrated building. Mr. Miller felt this as an injustice. It seemed to him that the Church could not after all be very sure of its own position. If, as it preached, it was the duty of the strong to help the weak, surely it was equally the duty of an Establishment that had dignity enough and to spare to bestow a