The hour fixed for the ceremony was ten o'clock. It was nearly nine, and
up in her own room the bride stood, under the hands of her maid, robed
for the sacrifice.

It was a sacrifice, though giddy Mollie had never thought it so before.
Now, when it was too late, her heart began to fail her.

He was dreadfully old, this stately Sir Roger. She didn't care for him
in the least, except as she might care for some nice old grandfather;
and then there was Hugh Ingelow--handsome Hugh!

But at this point Cricket caught her breath and her thoughts with a
gasp.

"Mollie, Mollie, Mollie! How dare you, you wicked, crazy girl! Thinking
of Hugh Ingelow, when you oughtn't to remember there's another man alive
but Sir Roger Trajenna! I wouldn't marry poor Hugh when he wanted me--a
lucky escape for him--and I'm not going to pine away for him now, when
it's high treason to do it"

"Hurry, Margaret," the bride said aloud. "Make me just as pretty as ever
you can."

The three rejected suitors had been invited to the bridal hall, and,
singular to relate, had come.

But their discomfiture had been so singular altogether that perhaps they
thought it as well to match Mollie in coolness.

There they were at least, regarding one another in the oddest way, and