I stole a glance at her. Had she been nursing a tenderness for Alf herself? One knows so little of one's fellow-creatures. "And I'm tired of weddings anyhow," she said. At this point the crowd raised three cheers and then again broke into the chorus of Alf's great song, but in its original form:-- "Mr. Right! Mr. Right! He may not have knocked just yet; But, cheer up, girls, he's putting on his boots, And he'll soon be here, you bet!" This they followed with Bonnie Birdie Twist's phenomenal success:-- "Is there room in your lap for me?" to which Alf replied by thrusting his head out of the window with a thundering "No!"--and so bride and bridegroom disappeared from view. The point of Miss Wagstaff's nose soared higher in the air as we took a last look of the scene, and we then turned away together. "After a wedding, a funeral," she said. "I'm going to see how old Glendinning is. He was so bad on Monday that they had to take him to the hospital. That means getting another cataloguer, I suppose." "Can't he recover?" I asked. "Recover! There's nothing to recover on. He's just skin and bone. He's eaten nothing for years; nothing but gin." I went with her to the hospital, and we were allowed to see the old man. By an extraordinary chance, one of the staff had been a pupil of his in the days of his prosperity as a schoolmaster, and there had been a recognition. The circumstance had turned Mr. Glendinning's thoughts again to that happier period. He was voluble, but quite unconscious of his surroundings. Miss Wagstaff, with a tenderness of which I had not suspected her, sat by his side and held his hand. He did not recognise her, but called her Ellen and stroked her hair. Where was the real Ellen, I wondered. Never to see him again or be seen by him; that was certain. As he became more delirious he identified himself more and more with his old post of authority. The weak tremulous lip of the tippler took on a firmness, his watery eye almost flashed. At one moment he was in class construing Xenophon, at another at the nets; but everywhere the instructor in command. "Don't shift your feet!" he cried to an imaginary batsman. "The ball won't hurt you!" So the old man had been a cricketer too! We left him still raving, as the nurse called it, but to my thinking happier and nearer his right mind than he had been for many a long year. And the other wedding? For that, I must go back a little into time. I told you about old Mrs. Wynne's efforts to find Drusilla a husband among the eligible young men of Ludlow and district. In vain. But a capricious chance can do on its head, as Dollie would say, that which not all the old ladies in Shropshire can compass with bell, book, and candle.