Few Chicago papers found their way into this section of Indiana. Clay township was peculiarly isolated. Its people were lowly, and comfortable in the indifference of the lowly to the progress of the world aside from its politics, its wars and its markets. Farm papers, family story papers and the _Glenville Weekly Tomahawk_ provided the reading for these busy, homely people. Jim Hardesty "took" a Chicago paper, but he was usually too busy whittling and telling stories to read much more than the headlines. "Dinged if I know what I done with it, parson," said Jim, scratching his head thoughtfully. "'Pears to me I wrapped some bacon up in it fer Mis' Trimmer yesterday. Anythin' pertickler you wanted to see about the weddin'?" "Do you remember what it said about the wedding?" "Lemme see, what did it say? Said the groom wuz from northern Indiana--up about Fort Wayne, I think. The girl's name wuz--hold on a minute--what wuz her name? Wood--that's it. Swell people, I guess. This feller wuz an artist, too. Say, that's kinder queer, ain't it?" "A coincidence--a rare coincidence, I must say." "Course, it couldn't 'a' been our Jud," said Jim, conclusively. "He's already married." "Oh, no, no! Of course not, Mr. Hardesty. He is devoted to Justine and--and----" "An' a man 'at's got any sense ain't goin' to load hisself down with two when it's so derned hard to git rid of one," grinned Jim, referring to his own connubial condition. "And bigamy is a very serious crime. I wonder if any one else in the neighborhood has noticed the similarity of names?" "I ain't heerd no one mention it, Mr. Marks. By ginger, you ain't got no--er--suspicions, have ye?" asked Jim, suddenly acute. Mr. Marks stammered confusedly and assured him that no such thought had entered his head. "Would you mind giving me Dudley's Chicago address?" he asked, at last, that same indefinable something struggling for recognition. "He's half way to Europe by this time," explained Jim. "I feel that it would be wise to secure a letter from Jud himself in case rumor confuses him with this other man. It would be just to him and to Justine, Mr. Hardesty. If you'll give me his address I'll write to him and we can have his own word for it in case people get to talking." "Then you _are_ afraid people will think it's Jud?" demanded Jim. "You cannot tell what people might think and say," said the parson, sagely. "And, by the way, did Mrs. Hardesty see that notice in the paper?"