They immediately became the objects of daily, yes, hourly calls. Every acquaintance of the family, high and low, rich and poor, came to welcome them back to Mondreer, and all were received with courtesy. Invitations were sent out “broadcast” for the double wedding to be celebrated at All Faith Church on the first of the ensuing June. When that day dawned at length the sun arose in a sky as bright and blue and shone upon a world as green and fresh as ever blessed the bridals of youth and beauty. At a very early hour the church was filled with the nearest friends of the wedding parties, while scores of invited guests who could not press into the building for want of space sat in their carriages that filled the grove. At ten o’clock the venerable clergyman appeared in the chancel, robed in his white surplice, and attended by his curate and clerk, and with their appearance a whisper went around the congregation that the bridal procession was approaching. This was true. A moment later the doors were noiselessly thrown open, and the ushers entered, standing on the right and on the left. Then the bride, Odalite, appeared leaning on the arm of her father. Her dress on this occasion was very plain and simple—a white silk, trained, and a long, white tulle veil, with a very slender wreath of orange buds, gloves, boots, handkerchiefs and bouquet to match, but no jewelry. Behind her walked her bridesmaids, Wynnette and Elva, girls even more simply dressed in white than herself. A few steps in the rear came the second bridal train—little Rosemary Hedge, led by her greatuncle, Capt. Gideon Grandiere. She looked like a light, floating cloud, with veil and dress all of snow-white tulle, looped here and there with lilies of the valley. Behind her walked her two bridesmaids, the little Elk girls, in simple white organdie dresses. Last of all came Mrs. Force, with the Earl of Enderby and other friends, and Mrs. Hedge, with Miss Susannah Grandiere. As Odalite was led up to the altar by her father, Leonidas Force came out of the vestry, followed by his groomsman, Sam Grandiere, and joined them. The circle, immediately arranged itself before the altar—the friends of the pair standing behind and on the right and left. The venerable rector opened his book and the rites commenced. Odalite was the palest bride that ever willingly gave her hand to her chosen bridegroom; but, then, the shadow of the past overclouded her spirit. Leonidas perceived this, and pressed her hand in silent sympathy and reassuring tenderness. The rites went on to the end. The benediction was given, and the bride and groom were warmly congratulated. Then the newly married pair, with their attendants, withdrew to the rear to make way for the second wedding.