No, Wilford did not care how much he wrung the hearts of Katy’s family by taking her from them at once, and by dictating to a certain extent the way in which he would take her. There must be no invited guests, he said; no lookers-on, except such as chose to go to the church where the ceremony would be performed, and from which place he should go directly to the Boston train. It was his wish, too, that the matter should be kept as quiet as possible, and not be generally discussed in the neighborhood, as he disliked being a subject for gossip. And Mrs. Lennox, to whom this was said, promised compliance with everything, or if she ventured to object she found herself borne down by a stronger will than her own, and weakly yielded, her manner fully testifying to her delight at the honor conferred upon her by this high marriage of her child. Wilford knew just how pleased she was, and her obsequious manner annoyed him far more than Helen’s blunt straightforwardness, when, after supper was over, she told him how averse she was to his taking Katy so soon, adding still further that if it must be, she saw no harm in inviting a few of their neighbors. It was customary, it would be expected, she said, while Mrs. Lennox, emboldened by Helen’s boldness, chimed in, “at least your folks will come; I shall be glad to meet your mother.” Wilford was very polite to them both; very good-humored, but he kept to his first position, and poor Mrs. Lennox saw fade into airy nothingness all her visions of roasted fowls and frosted cake trimmed with myrtle and flowers, with hosts of the Silverton people there to admire and partake of the marriage feast. It was too bad and so Aunt Betsy said, when, after Wilford had gone to Linwood, the family sat together around the kitchen stove, talking the matter over. “Yes, it was too bad, when there was that white hen-turkey she could fat up so easy before June, and she knew how to make ’lection cake that would melt in your mouth, and was enough sight better than the black stuff they called weddin’ cake. She meant to try what _she_ could do with Mr. Carmon.” And next morning when he came again she did try, holding out as inducements why he should be married the night before starting for Boston, the “white hen-turkey, the ’lection cake, and the gay old times the young folks would have playing snap-and-catchem; or if they had a mind, they could dance a bit in the kitchen. She didn’t believe in it, to be sure—none of the Orthodox did; but as Wilford was a ’Piscopal, and that was a ’Piscopal quirk, it wouldn’t harm for once.” Wilford tried not to show his disgust, and only Helen suspected how hard it was for him to keep down his utter contempt. She saw it in his eyes, which resembled two smouldering volcanoes as they rested upon Aunt Betsy during her harangue.