"Come along!" the bridegroom said, rather impatiently. "You’re nearly half-an-hour late, and we’re famishing. Here, waiter, dinner at once, please! Vin, my boy, you sit next Miss Drexel—that’s all right!" At this side-table, covers were already laid for five. As Vincent took his place, he said:— "Well, this is better than being had up before a magistrate for stealing a carriage and a pair of horses!" "Sure they didn’t let on?" the bride demanded, with a glance at the two girls. "Not a word!" he protested. "I had not the remotest idea where or what we were bound for. Looked more like Gretna Green than anything else." "The nearest way to Gretna Green," said she, regarding Vincent with significant eyes, "is through Paris—to the British Embassy." Now although this remark (which Miss Drexel affected not to hear—she was so busy taking off her gloves) seemed a quite haphazard and casual thing, it very soon appeared, during the progress of this exceedingly merry dinner, that Lady Musselburgh, as she now was, had been wondering whether they might not carry the frolic a bit further; whether, in short, this little party of five might not go on to Paris together by the eleven o’clock boat that same night. "Why, Louie, you despise conventionalities," she exclaimed. "Well, now is your chance!" Miss Louie pretended to be much frightened. "Oh, but I couldn’t do that!" she cried. "Neither Nan nor I have any things with us." "The idea of American girls talking of taking things with them to Paris!" the bride said, with a laugh. "That is the very reason you should go to Paris—to get the things." "Do you really mean to cross to-night?" Vincent asked, turning to Musselburgh. "Oh, yes, certainly. The fixed service—eleven o’clock—so there’s no hurry, whatever you decide on."