little snow-storm? Will you do it?"

"You might have noticed that I would, long ago," said Nevada. "And I'm
rather stuck on the snow-storm idea, myself. I surely would hate one of
these flowery church noon-weddings. Gilbert, I didn't know you had grit
enough to propose it this way. Let's shock 'em--it's our funeral, ain't
it?"

"You bet!" said Gilbert. "Where did I hear that expression?" he added
to himself. "Wait a minute, Nevada; I want to do a little 'phoning."

He shut himself in a little dressing-room, and called upon the
lightnings of the heavens--condensed into unromantic numbers and
districts.

"That you, Jack? You confounded sleepyhead! Yes, wake up; this is me--or
I--oh, bother the difference in grammar! I'm going to be married right
away. Yes! Wake up your sister--don't answer me back; bring her along,
too--you _must_! Remind Agnes of the time I saved her from drowning in
Lake Ronkonkoma--I know it's caddish to refer to it, but she must come
with you. Yes. Nevada is here, waiting. We've been engaged quite a
while. Some opposition among the relatives, you know, and we have to
pull it off this way. We're waiting here for you. Don't let Agnes
out-talk you--bring her! You will? Good old boy! I'll order a carriage
to call for you, double-quick time. Confound you, Jack, you're all
right!"

Gilbert returned to the room where Nevada waited.

"My old friend, Jack Peyton, and his sister were to have been here at