Parading up and down the Goodchild block on the Avenue were six sandwich-men. They carried the swellest sandwiches in Christendom. This was the first use of the famous iridescent glass mosaic sandwich in history. It was exquisitely beautiful. But the legends were even more beautiful: [Illustration: I SHALL MARRY GRACE GOODCHILD NO MATTER WHO SAYS NO!] This last he stationed in front of the Goodchild house. Across the street, leaning against the Central Park wall, was Morris Lazarus, Mr. Onthemaker's able associate counsel. His pockets were bulging with numbered legal documents in anticipation of hostilities from Christians, policemen, and other aliens. He had told the reporters that he was one of Mr. Rutgers's counsel and did not propose to allow the sandwich-men to be interfered with by anybody. He also distributed his card, that the name might not be misspelled. He had not yet changed Morris into Maurice. [Illustration: NO OPPOSITION CAN KEEP ME FROM MARRYING GRACE GOODCHILD] [Illustration: SEE THE NEWSPAPERS FOR ACCOUNTS OF THE MARRIAGE OF GRACE GOODCHILD TO HENDRIK RUTGERS] [Illustration: WEDDING OF GRACE GOODCHILD AND HENDRIK RUTGERS FOR DATE WATCH THIS SPACE] [Illustration: ALL THE WORLD LOVES A LOVER. LOVE GRACE GOODCHILD AND ME TOO] [Illustration: DO YOU BLAME ME FOR WISHING TO MARRY THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WHOLE WORLD? SHE LIVES HERE!] The sandwiches paraded up and down the Avenue sidewalk, never once going off the block. As two of the artists passed each other they saluted--the sandwich union's sign a rigid forefinger drawn quickly across the throat with a decapitating sweep: lambs expecting execution in the world's vast abattoir. The answering sign was a quick mouthward motion of the rigid thumb to represent the assuaging of thirst at the close of day. Thus did H. R. reward industry. Before the sandwich-men had made the beat a dozen times all upper Fifth Avenue heard about it. A stream of limousines, preciously freighted, halted before the Goodchild mansion and poured out into the sidewalk friends and acquaintances of the Goodchilds. On the dowagers' faces you could see the smug self-congratulations that their daughters, thank goodness, did not have to be wooed thus vulgarly to get into the newspapers. And on the daughters the watching reporters saw smiles and envious gleams of bright eyes. Why couldn't _they_ be thus desperately wooed in public? To let the world know you were desired, to have a man brave all the world in order to let the world know it! It was heroism! And even more: it was great fun! The dowagers went in to express both surprise and condolence to Mrs. Goodchild. The girls rushed to Grace's boudoir to ask questions. Mrs. Goodchild tried to brazen it out. Then she tried to treat it humorously. But the dowagers called both bluffs. Then she foolishly told them, "The poor young man is quite insane."