“A lunatic!” “Yes. Maybe you have, though. Is Marie rampaging around the house like a wild creature, and asking ten questions and making twenty threats to the minute?” “Certainly not! Don't be absurd, Bertram. What do you mean?” “See here, Kate, that show comes off at twelve sharp, doesn't it?” “Show, indeed!” retorted Kate, indignantly. “The _wedding_ is at noon sharp--as the best man should know very well.” “All right; then tell Billy, please, to see that it is sharp, or I won't answer for the consequences.” “What do you mean? What is the matter?” “Cyril. He's broken loose at last. I've been expecting it all along. I've simply marvelled at the meekness with which he has submitted himself to be tied up with white ribbons and topped with roses.” “Nonsense, Bertram!” “Well, it amounts to that. Anyhow, he thinks it does, and he's wild. I wish you could have heard the thunderous performance on his piano with which he woke me up this morning. Billy says he plays everything--his past, present, and future. All is, if he was playing his future this morning, I pity the girl who's got to live it with him.” “Bertram!” Bertram chuckled remorselessly. “Well, I do. But I'll warrant he wasn't playing his future this morning. He was playing his present--the wedding. You see, he's just waked up to the fact that it'll be a perfect orgy of women and other confusion, and he doesn't like it. All the samee,{sic} I've had to assure him just fourteen times this morning that the ring, the license, the carriage, the minister's fee, and my sanity are all O. K. When he isn't asking questions he's making threats to snake the parson up there an hour ahead of time and be off with Marie before a soul comes.” “What an absurd idea!” “Cyril doesn't think so. Indeed, Kate, I've had a hard struggle to convince him that the guests wouldn't think it the most delightful experience of their lives if they should come and find the ceremony over with and the bride gone.” “Well, you remind Cyril, please, that there are other people besides himself concerned in this wedding,” observed Kate, icily. “I have,” purred Bertram, “and he says all right, let them have it, then. He's gone now to look up proxy marriages, I believe.” “Proxy marriages, indeed! Come, come, Bertram, I've got something to do this morning besides to stand here listening to your nonsense. See that you and Cyril get here on time--that's all!” And she hung up the receiver with an impatient jerk. She turned to confront the startled eyes of the bride elect. “What is it? Is anything wrong--with Cyril?” faltered Marie. Kate laughed and raised her eyebrows slightly. “Nothing but a little stage fright, my dear.” “Stage fright!” “Yes. Bertram says he's trying to find some one to play his rôle, I believe, in the ceremony.” “_Mrs. Hartwell!_” At the look of dismayed terror that came into Marie's face, Mrs. Hartwell laughed reassuringly.