There were 500 invitations gotten up in Tiffany’s best style, and the larger proportion of them were carried from the island that day in the mail to different parties. Comparatively few were invited in Oak City. Could Paul have had his way and the church been large enough nearly everybody would have been bidden to his marriage. But it was Clarice’s prerogative to rule on this occasion, and when she struck name after name from the list he gave her he acquiesced, for the most part, thinking that after his return from his bridal tour he would come to Oak City, open the Ralston House, which would hold hundreds, and invite all the residents. Against this scheme Clarice did not protest, but merely shrugged her shoulders as she fancied herself receiving the great unwashed in the elegant drawing rooms of the Ralston House. She was very loving and sweet to Paul, and he was very happy. Occasionally thoughts of the moonlight waltz with Elithe crossed his mind as something he could never have again or forget either. He did not see her now every day, for, as Clarice stayed mostly at home after her cards were out he in duty bound stayed with her. She, too, was very happy. Beautiful and costly presents were coming in daily, with letters of congratulation. No news had come from Jack, who had probably decided to stay in Samona. Her bridesmaids were from some of the best families in Washington, New York and Boston. The best man was Ralph Tracy. Paul was to give a supper to his immediate friends at the Harbor Hotel on Tuesday night, and Mrs. Percy was to serve an elegant little dinner to the bridesmaids on Wednesday night. A caterer with colored waiters was to come from Boston. He had already been and looked the ground over, deciding that a tent must be erected by the side of the cottage for the better accommodation of the guests. There was to be a canopy at the church and another at the house. There were to be tons of flowers and forests of palms and ferns. There were to be lanterns on the lawn and fireworks from a yacht stationed off the shore. There were to be two bands, one outside and one in for dancing. The Ralston House was to be illuminated from cellar to attic, with an enormous flag floating from the look-out on the roof. The church was to be elaborately trimmed, and white satin ribbons a finger wide were to divide the sheep from the goats,—the lookers-on from the invited guests. An organist from Boston was to preside at the organ, and the bridal party was to be preceded up the aisle by a surpliced choir of boys, trained and brought from Boston by the organist. This was Clarice’s idea, as were most of the novel features of the wedding. She should never be married but once, she said, and she meant to make the most of it and give the people something to talk about and remember. And they did talk, those who were bidden and those who were not,—the latter naturally making invidious remarks against the Percys, whose antecedents were thoroughly canvassed.