"Don't blame Bellows, old man," said Bosworth Van Pycke. "He isn't a blizzard. And don't lose your temper, either. Remember it's your wedding night. Now, I have a big sleigh coming for me at 10.30. Taxis can't budge in this weather. You and the bride can take my sleigh--" He did not finish. Every man in the party had begun to berate the kind of car he owned and every woman was scolding the weather. Then there was a common demand for four-horse sleighs. Bellows received half a dozen orders to telephone to the garages and to the livery stables, all in the same breath, it seemed. "Don't worry, Chaunce. My sleigh is sure to come. The bride is safe." So spoke the confident Mr. Van Pycke. "All I ask you to do in return is to send it back here for me as soon as you're safely there." "You're an angel, Buzzy," cried the bride from the depths of her sables. Just as the sleigh was announced, half an hour later, a diversion was created by the entrance of Mr. Van Pycke, senior. He was dressed for the street, fur-coated and gloved. The shout which greeted him brought him up just inside the door. He glared at the crowd. "Where are you, Bosworth?" he called out, his voice husky with emotion. "Here, father. Are you ready to go?" His son stepped forward rather quickly. "Do you think I'm going to stay all night?" snapped the old gentleman. "I'm--I'm damned if I do!" Every one was rushing for the doors. The bride took time for a few words with the latest arrival. "How late you are, Mr. Van Pycke!" she cried, grasping his hand. "I'm so sorry we must be going. Catching a train, you know. By the way, Buzzy, we're sailing for the Azores day after to-morrow. When you're in Paris, be sure to look us up. Thank God, I'm never coming back to New York. Now you know why I don't care a snap what people say or think about my wedding guests. Good-bye, my dear. Good-bye, Mr. Van Pycke. Thanks, so much, for the roses you sent up to-day. Be sure we get the right sleigh, Bellows. Come, Mary, dear, kiss me. I _know_ you'll look me up when you come to Paris." She enveloped the pretty Miss Downing in her arms, kissed her warmly, and then rushed off into the hall, where the crowd was being shooed out into the storm ahead of her. Bosworth observed that Miss Downing was not attired for the street. "You're not going?" he asked quickly. "Not till to-morrow," she said. "I'm staying overnight." "Bosworth," put in Mr. Van Pycke, in deadly tones, "where is your cab?" "Stuck in the snow, dad. My sleigh will be back in half an hour. Take off your coat. Miss Downing won't mind our staying here a while longer. She--" "Not another minute, sir!" snapped Mr. Van Pycke. "You don't know what I know. You--" "I don't believe you know what I know, either, dad," said his son, dryly. Bellows entered. "Your sleigh will return in half an hour, Mr.--Mr. Bosworth. Will you wait, sir?" "No, he won't wait," said Mr. Van Pycke. "Get his coat and hat, Bellows. I'm--I'm going to take him away."