"I fear I have diverted your purpose, Colonel Ogilvie. I am not sorry for it"—this with a look at Judy which made her blush afresh "but I apologize. I take it that you were alluding to something in which I am to have a less prominent part than I have suggested."
"The marriage, sir, is to be between Lord Athlyne and my daughter." As he spoke Athlyne went to a side table whereon were spread the Sheriff's writing materials. He took a sheet of paper and began to write. Colonel Ogilvie went on:
"We have come to the conclusion that, though the act of marriage which has already taken place between these two young people is in your view lawful and complete, it may be well to go through the ceremony in a more formal manner. There are, we all know, intricacies and pitfalls in law; and we are both agreed with the suggestion of my lord that it would be well not to allow any loophole for after attack. Therefore in your presence—if you will be so good," the Sheriff bowed, "they shall again pledge their mutual Matrimonial Consent. They will both sign the paper to that effect which I see Lord Athlyne is preparing; and we shall all sign it as witnesses. Then, when this new marriage is complete—and irrefragable as I understand from what you said awhile ago it will be—we shall be ready for breakfast. It will be more than perhaps you expected when you so kindly asked us to be your guests: a wedding breakfast!"
Judy whispered to her niece.
"Joy, you must come to your room and let me dress you properly. I have brought a dress with me."
"What dress dear?" she asked.
"The tweed tailor-made."
"But, Judy dear, I have on a white frock, and that is more suitable for my wedding."
"That was all right yesterday, dear. But to-day you shall not wear white. You are already a married lady; this
