PART III.
Upon George Mansion's arrival at the garrison town he had been met
on the wharf by the major, who took him to the hotel, while
hurriedly explaining just why he must not go near Lydia's sister and
the clergyman whom George had expected would perform the marriage
ceremony. "So," continued the major, "you and Lydia are not to be
married at the cathedral after all, but Mrs. Harold and I have
arranged that the ceremony shall take place at little St. Swithin's
Church in the West End. So you'll be there at eleven o'clock, eh,
boy?"
"Yes, major, I'll be there, and before eleven, I'm afraid, I'm so
anxious to take her home. I shall not endeavour to thank you and
Mrs. Harold for what you have done for my homeless girl. I can't
even--"
"Tut, tut, tut!" growled the major. "Haven't done anything. Bless
my soul, Chief, take my word for it, haven't done a thing to be
thanked for. Here's your hotel. Get some coffee to brace your
nerves up with, for I can assure you, boy, a wedding is a trying
ordeal, even if there is but a handful of folks to see it through.
Be a good boy, now--good-bye until eleven--St. Swithin's, remember,
and God bless you!" and the big-hearted, blustering major was
whisked away in his carriage, leaving the young Indian half
overwhelmed with his kindness, but as happy as the golden day.
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