This was to be a Clayton wedding for high and low, rich and poor.
There was probably not a shutter opened in the town, on the morning of the great day, that some one did not smile with pleasure to find that the sun was shining.
Mrs.Hollis woke Sandy with the dawn, and insisted upon helping him pack his trunk before breakfast.

For a week she had been absorbed in his nuptial outfit, jealously guarding his new clothes, to keep him from wearing them all before the wedding.
Aunt Melvy was half an hour late in arriving, for she had tarried at "Who'd 'a' Thought It" to perform the last mystic rites over a rabbit's foot which was to be her gift to the groom.
The whole town was early astir and wore a holiday air.

By noon business was virtually abandoned, for Clayton was getting ready to go to the wedding.
Willowvale extended a welcome to the world.

The wide front gates stood open, the big-eyed poplars beamed above the oleanders and the myrtle, while the thrushes and the redwings twittered and caroled their greetings from on high.

The big white house was open to the sunshine and the spring; flowers filled every nook and corner; even the rose-bush which grew outside the dining-room window sent a few venturesome roses over the sill to lend their fragrance to those within.
And such a flutter of expectancy and romance and joy as pervaded the place! All the youth of Clayton was there, loitering about the grounds in gay little groups, or lingering in couples under the shadow of the big porches.
In the library Judge and Mrs.Hollis did the honors, and presented the guests to little Miss Merritt, whose cordial, homely greetings counteracted the haughty disapproval of the portraits overhead.
Mr.Moseley rambled through the rooms, indulging in a flowing monologue which was as independent of an audience as a summer brook.
Mr.Meech sought a secluded spot under the stairway and nervously practised the wedding service, while Mrs.Meech, tucked up for once in her life, smiled bravely on the company, and thought of a little green mound in the cemetery, which Sandy had helped her keep bright with flowers.
They were all there, Dr.Fenton slapping everybody on the back and roaring at his own jokes; Sid Gray carrying Annette's flowers with a look of plump complacency; Jimmy Reed constituting himself a bureau of information, giving and soliciting news concerning wedding presents, destination of wedding journey, and future plans.
Up-stairs, at a hall window, the groom was living through rapturous throes of anticipation.