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"You've saved my good name and my life, Ros," he said, over and over again, "and not only my life, but what is a mighty sight more worth saving, Nellie's happiness.I don't know how you did it; Ibelieve yet that there is something behind all this, that you're keeping something from me.I can't see how, considering all you've said to me about your not being well-off, you got that money so quick.But I know you don't want me to talk about it.""I don't, George," I said."All I ask of you is just to forget the whole thing.""Forget! I shan't forget while I live.And, as soon as ever I can scrape it together, I'll pay you back that loan."He had kept his word, so far as telling Nellie of his financial condition was concerned.He had not, of course, told her of his use of the bank bonds, but he had, as he said he would, told her that, in all probability, he should be left with nothing but his salary.

"I told her she was free to give me up," he said, with emotion, "and what do you suppose she said to me? That she would marry me if she knew she must live in the poorhouse the rest of her days.

Yes, and be happy, so long as we could be together.Well, I ain't worth it, and I told her so, but I'll do my best to be worth something; and she shan't have to live in the poorhouse either.""I don't think there's much danger of that," I said."And, by the way, George, your Louisville and Transcontinental speculation may not be all loss.You may save something out of it.There has been considerable trading in the stock during the past two days.It is up half a point already, according to the papers.Did you notice it?""Yes, I noticed it.But I tell you, Ros, I don't care.I'll be glad to get some of my money back, of course; enough to pay you and Cap'n Elisha anyhow; but I'm so happy to think that Nellie need never know I was a thief that I don't seem to care much for anything else."Nellie was happy, too.She came to me and told me of her happiness.

It was all on George's account, of course.

"The poor fellow had lost money in investments," she said, "and he thought I would not care for him if I found out he was poor.He isn't poor, of course, but if he was it would make no difference to me.I am so glad to see him without that dreadful worried look on his face that I--I-- Oh, you must think me awful silly, Roscoe! Iguess I am.I know I am.But you are the only one I can talk to in this way about--about him.All Ma wants to talk about now is the wedding and clothes and such, and Pa always treats me as if Iwas a child.I feel almost as if you were the closest friend Ihave, and I know George feels the same.He says you have helped him out of his troubles.I was sure you would; that is why I wrote you that letter.We are both SO grateful to you."Their gratitude and the knowledge of their happiness were my sole consolations in this trying time.They kept me from repenting what I had done.It was hard not to repent.If Colton had only made known his purchase and closed the Lane at once, while my resolution was red hot, I could have faced the wrath of the village and its inevitable consequences fairly well, I believed; but he still kept silent and made no move.I saw him once or twice; on one occasion he came into the bank, but he came only to cash a check and did not mention the subject of the Lane.He did not look well to me and Iheard him tell Taylor something about his "damned digestion."The wedding day came.I, as best man, was busy and thankful for the bustle and responsibility.They occupied my mind and kept it from dwelling on other things.George worked at the bank until noon, getting ready to leave the institution in my charge and that of Dick Small, Henry's brother, who had reported for duty that morning.The marriage was to take place at half past one in the afternoon and the bridal couple were to go away on the three o'clock train.The honeymoon trip was to be a brief one, only a week.

Every able-bodied native of Denboro, man, woman and child, attended that wedding, I honestly believe.It was the best sort of advertising for Olinda Cahoon and Simeon Eldredge, for Olinda had made the gowns worn by the bride and the bride's mother and a number of the younger female guests, and Sim had sold innumerable bottles of a peculiarly penetrating perfume, a large supply of which he had been talked into purchasing by a Boston traveling salesman.

"Smell it, Ros, do ye?" whispered Sim, grinning triumphantly between the points of a "stand-up" collar."I give you my word when that slick-talkin' drummer sold me all that perfumery, Ithought I was stuck sure and sartin.But then I had an idee.

Every time women folks come into the store and commenced to talk about the weddin' I says to 'em, says I, 'Can't sell you a couple of handkerchiefs to cry on, can I, Miss So-and-so? Weddin's are great places for sheddin' tears, you know.' If I sold 'em the handkerchiefs all well and good; but if they laughed and said they had a plenty, I got out my sample bottle of 'May Lilock', that's the name of the cologne, and asked 'em to smell of it.'If you cry with that on your handkerchief,' says I, 'all hands will be glad to have you do it.And only twenty cents a bottle!' You wouldn't believe how much I sold.You can smell this weddin' afore you come in sight of the house, can't ye now."You could, and you continued to smell it long after you left.My best suit reeked of "May Lilac" weeks later when I took it out of the closet.