.

CYRIL AND A WEDDING.
The twelfth was a beautiful day.

Clear, frosty air set the blood to tingling and the eyes to sparkling, even if it were not your wedding day; while if it were-- It _was_ Marie Hawthorn's wedding day, and certainly her eyes sparkled and her blood tingled as she threw open the window of her room and breathed long and deep of the fresh morning air before going down to breakfast.
"They say 'Happy is the bride that the sun shines on,'" she whispered softly to an English sparrow that cocked his eye at her from a neighboring tree branch.

"As if a bride wouldn't be happy, sun or no sun," she scoffed tenderly, as she turned to go down-stairs.
As it happens, however, tingling blood and sparkling eyes are a matter of more than weather, or even weddings, as was proved a little later when the telephone bell rang.
Kate answered the ring.
"Hullo, is that you, Kate ?" called a despairing voice.
"Yes.

Good morning, Bertram.