"Yes, an' the girl, there, did it. Don't ye furgit that, either. I'll tell on y'," replied Jim, nodding his head emphatically. "She got me caught." "Jim!" Marjorie exclaimed loudly. "Now do not lay the blame on her," Stephen cautioned with a smile. "You yourself were only too anxious to get there. You wanted to see yourself in a new uniform." "I did, then. I was terr'bly anxious t' see meself in a red suit, wasn't I?" The company enjoyed this exchange of repartee and laughed continually. Jim ever enjoyed the distinction of being tormented by the members of whatever gathering he was in, yet it was never known when he was powerless of providing for himself. And so they talked far into the morning. They sat in groups of twos and threes, long after the table had been cleared, while the willing helpers, the good neighbors, plied themselves industriously out in the kitchen with the cleaning of the dishes and the restoration of the house again to its proper order. Marjorie and her mother looked in through the doorway from time to time at the progress of the work, only to be banished as quickly by the cohort of willing toilers. For once in their lives the girl and her fond mother mingled entirely with the guests and took their full measure of enjoyment with the company. As the guests departed one after the other, leaving behind them many benedictions and choice wishes for the bride and groom, the house settled down to its accustomed quietude and uniformity with the immediate family, Jim and his wife alone remaining. Jim, like every recognized master in his own household, sat with his one leg across the other, enjoying his tobacco, while his less aristocratic helpmate took care that the kitchen affairs were given their due amount of attention. With abatement of the excitement and commotion the members of the family betook themselves upon various journeys, the father to look at his fire so as to give it, if needed, a few generous pokes; the mother, to the kitchen to add a touch here and there to the arrangement of its utensils; Marjorie to her room in order that she might once more robe herself in her plainer and more habitual apparel. The festivities were at an end and the practical things of life again asserted their stern reality. III At length Stephen and Marjorie were alone, alone in their own little world of fancies and dreams. They were standing by the upstairs window looking out at the little fence where they had stood together more than two years before on the afternoon of his arrest. Stephen recalled his impressions of her then, yet she was more beautiful now, he thought. She had changed her gown of white for one of pink, and as she stood there, her lips a little parted in a tiny smile, her soft cheeks heightened in color, her bright eyes looking out into the memories of the past, she seemed for all the world to Stephen like an enchanted being.