Larry swung upon him eagerly. “Before we go, sir. There is lots of time. You see we do not pull out until after three. We have all the morning, if you could spare me an hour or so. We could get married, and she would just come along with us, sir.” Jane gasped. “With all those men?” “Good Lord!” exclaimed the Colonel. “The boy is mad.” “We might perhaps take the later train,” suggested Jane demurely. “But, of course, Papa, I have never agreed at all,” she added quickly, turning to her father. “That settles it, I believe,” said Dr. Brown. “Colonel, what do you say? Can it be done?” “Done?” shouted the Colonel. “Of course, it can be done. Military wedding, guard of honour, band, and all that sort of thing. Proper style, first in the regiment, eh, what?” “But nothing is ready,” said Jane, appalled at the rush of events. “Not a dress, not a bridesmaid, nothing.” “You have got a 'phone,” cried Larry, gloriously oblivious of difficulties. “Tell everybody. Oh, sir,” he said, turning to Dr. Brown with hand outstretched, “I hope you will let her come. I promise you I will be good to her.” Dr. Brown looked at the young man gravely, almost sadly, then at his daughter. With a quick pang he noted the new look in her eyes. He put out his hand to her and drew her toward him. “Dear child,” he said, and his voice sounded hoarse and strained, “how like you are to your mother to-night.” Her arms went quickly about his neck. He held her close to him for a few moments; then loosing her arms, he pushed her gently toward Larry, saying, “Boy, I give her to you. As you deal with her, so may God deal with you.” “Amen,” said Larry solemnly, taking her hand in his. Never was such a wedding in Winnipeg! Nothing was lacking to make it perfectly, gloriously, triumphantly complete. There was a wedding dress, and a bridal veil with orange blossoms. There were wedding gifts, for somehow, no one ever knew how, the morning Times had got the news. There was a church crowded with friends to wish them well, and the regimental band with a guard of honour, under whose arched swords the bride and groom went forth. Never had the Reverend Andrew McPherson been so happy in his marriage service. Never was such a wedding breakfast with toasts and telegrams from absent friends, from Chicago, and from the Lakeside Farm in response to Larry's announcements by wire. Two of these excited wild enthusiasm. One read, “Happy days. Nora and I following your good example. See you later in France. Signed, Dean.” The other, from the Minister of Militia at Ottawa to Lieutenant-Colonel Waring-Gaunt. “Your suggestion approved. Captain Gwynne gazetted to-morrow as Major. Signed, Sam Hughes.” “Ladies and Gentlemen,” cried the Colonel, beaming upon the company, “allow me to propose long life and many happy days for the Major and the Major's wife.” And as they drank with tumultuous acclaim, Larry turned and, looking upon the radiant face at his side, whispered: “Jane, did you hear what he said?”