“Come,” said Aunt Wess’, getting to her feet, “it’s all over, Page. Come, and kiss your sister⁠— Mrs. Jadwin.”

In the vestry room Laura stood for a moment, while one after another of the wedding party⁠—even Mr. Cressler⁠—kissed her. When Page’s turn came, the two sisters held each other in a close embrace a long moment, but Laura’s eyes were always dry. Of all present she was the least excited.

“Here’s something,” vociferated the ubiquitous clerk, pushing his way forward. “It was on the table when we came out just now. The sexton says a messenger boy brought it. It’s for Mrs. Jadwin.”

He handed her a large box. Laura opened it. Inside was a great sheaf of Jacqueminot roses and a card, on which was written: