"When I seed you three ladies come through the coffin gate, ’My stars,’ I said, ’there’s a bit of summer flower garden come back into winter!’ ’Twas your bonnets, you must know. Such flowers I never did see out of nature, or in it for that matter. And in church--when the sun comed through Christ washing the Apostles’ feet--as it do about mid-day at this season, and fell on your bonnet, Mrs. Crocker, ’twas as though a dazzling rainbow had broke loose in the holy place." Mr. Bowden joined them and whispered to his wife. He was clad in Sunday black, but, to mark the great occasion, wore a blue-green tie with an old-fashioned garnet breastpin and chain in it. "Did you see that scamp, Billy Screech, in church?" he asked. "No," she answered; "but ’tis a free country: us couldn’t forbid him to come there." Rhoda, the widowed Sophia in a sentimental spirit, and Dorcas followed together. All were clad in new finery and all were quite silent. Mr. Hartley Crocker approached them and took off his hat. He remarked their moods and observed that Rhoda only was cheerful. She looked superb, he thought, in her purple cloth dress and little hat of squirrel fur. "Cheer me up," he said. "I’ve got to propose the bride and bridegroom after the wedding, and I’m horribly frighted to have to do it. I’d almost sooner be fighting again, Miss Rhoda." "I doubt you’ll come well out of it," she said "Did I hand David the ring all right?" "I suppose so. The ring’s in its proper place now--that’s all that matters." She was indifferent, but not absolutely cold. She had, he thought, forgiven him, and that made the day pleasant to him. It was the first time since the tragic moment at the Pixies’ House that she had directly spoken to Mr. Crocker; and the sound of her voice, though not very mellow, yet gave him the greatest satisfaction. "Did you take the best man’s kiss when you was in the vestry?" asked Dorcas. The interrogation was far from being a happy one; yet Bartley made a masterly answer, intended for other ears than those of the questioner. As a matter of fact, he had forgotten the immemorial privilege or most certainly he had exercised it. But now he was glad that he had forgotten. "No," he answered. "There’s a lot of silly old customs better left out, Miss Dorcas. ’Tis not a comely thing for any male to kiss a bride but her father or her husband." This virtuous sentiment was directed at Rhoda, but she made no sign save a perceptible pursing of her lips.