Fred Babcock, real-estate agent and justice of the peace, in the Norwalk Block, tucked a small brown flask hurriedly in the bottom drawer of his desk when he heard somebody coming up the stairs. He threw his “chew” in the stove and nipped his finger on the hot iron door. He was shaking the smarting hand and swearing when Nathan appeared in the doorway. There was some one behind him. “Mr. Babcock,” asked the boy in a strained voice, “wonder if I could get you to perform a m-m-marriage?” “Whose?” gaped Fred. “Mine! Mine and Miss Richards.” Fred looked from one to the other blankly. “Well, of course, if it’s bad as that,” he assented. “Come in! Gawd! I ain’t hitched nobody for so long b’darned if I know where to look for the book.” Milly clung to Nathan frightenedly. Her other hand held her cloak together, for the dangling button had ceased its dangling somewhere en route. Fred found the book in an empty cigar box that had fallen upon a pile of old overshoes and fishing tackle. “B’darn! We gotta have a witness!” he declared. “An’ you gotcha license all proper, aincher?” Nathan could produce a license but not a witness. Fred departed to “scare one out.” He was pleased with the prospect of making five dollars so easily to top off the week,—just like “picking it up in the street.” While Fred was absent, Milly and Nathan sat stiffly. Dimly in the grief-stunned boy’s mind was a thought that by this he was going Carol one better! Wait until she heard! Then too, he never would have to go back to his father and mother. Milly was all right! As good as the run of ’em! She was The Sex anyhow and had proved that she loved him. Had she not stayed at work during the strike? Had she not gone uptown once and brought him down a basket of supper, unasked? Fred came back with a colored man in tow,—old Ezra Hassock, janitor for a half-dozen Main Street blocks and tender of their nocturnal fires. He wore white overalls and a dented felt hat. The hat had cobwebs on it, and his hands hung from the length of his arms like smoked hams. “Well, stand up, and we’ll have the agony over,” was the cheery way the justice of the peace phrased it. “Gotta ring?” “Yes,” said Nathan thickly. “I bought one when we came across the square just now.” “Well, grab her left lunch-hook and hang on,” was Fred’s equally jovial way of directing the ceremonies. “You, Ezra! Take the cotton battin’ out your ears and look like a witness!” “Ain’t got no cotton battin’ in mah ears!” rejoined Ezra. Thereat all present laughed. It was an excellent joke. “_In the name of God, Amen!_”