In less than thirty seconds we were on our way to the church, in the
carriage which had been ordered for the purpose.

On the church porch we found old Mr. Scott. He was dressed in his best
clothes, and greeted us cordially. "In good time," he said. "I am glad
to see that. It promises well." And then, looking around to see that no
one was within hearing, he came nearer to us. "If I were you," he
continued, "I wouldn't say nothin' to folks in general about
relationships, for there are people, and very good people, too, whose
minds haven't got on far enough to make 'em able to understand
telephones and the other new kinds of wonders."

We acknowledged the force of his remarks, and all went into the church.

Three days after the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Kilbright on their
wedding tour, my wife received a letter from Dr. Hildstein, written by
himself from New York, but addressed in the handwriting of Mr.
Corbridge.

"I return," he wrote, "to Germany, perfectly happy in having succeeded
in my experiments; but nevermore, esteemed lady, will I dematerialize a
subject who has remained long enough in this world to make friends, and
I am the only man who can do this thing."

This letter greatly satisfied us. "It shows that he has some heart,
after all," said Mrs. Colesworthy, "but as to that man Corbridge, I
believe he would have kept poor Mr. Kilbright dancing backward and
forward between this world and the other as long as a dollar could be
made out of him. But there is only one way in which he can do us any