A JOB FOR PETE--AND FOR BERTRAM The early days in December were busy ones, certainly, in the little house on Corey Hill.

Marie was to be married the twelfth.

It was to be a home wedding, and a very simple one--according to Billy, and according to what Marie had said it was to be.

Billy still serenely spoke of it as a "simple affair," but Marie was beginning to be fearful.

As the days passed, bringing with them more and more frequent evidences either tangible or intangible of orders to stationers, caterers, and florists, her fears found voice in a protest.
"But Billy, it was to be a _simple_ wedding," she cried.
"And so it is." "But what is this I hear about a breakfast ?" Billy's chin assumed its most stubborn squareness.
"I don't know, I'm sure, what you did hear," she retorted calmly.
"Billy!" Billy laughed.