“Priorsford will be horrified,” said Jean.  “They aren’t used to such indecorous haste, and oh, Biddy, I couldn’t be married without Mr. Macdonald.”

“I was thinking about that.  He certainly has the right to be at your wedding.  If I wired to-day, do you think they would come?  Mrs. Macdonald’s such a sportsman, I believe she would hustle the minister and herself off at once.”

“I believe she would,” said Jean, “and having them would make all the difference.  It would be almost like having my own father and mother....”

So it was arranged.  They spent a hectic day in London which almost reduced Jean to idiocy, and got back at night to the peace of Stratford.  Pamela said she would bring everything that was needed, and would arrive on the evening of the 29th with Lewis and David.  The Macdonalds wired that they were coming, and Lord Bidborough interviewed the vicar of the little church among the blossoms and explained everything to him.  The vicar was old and wise and tolerant, and he said he would feel honoured if the Scots minister would officiate with him.  He would, he said, be pleased to arrange things exactly as Jean and her minister wanted them.

By the 29th they had all assembled.

Pamela arriving with Lewis Elliot and Mawson and a motor full of pasteboard boxes found Jean just home from a picnic at Broadway, flushed with the sun and glowing with health and happiness.

“Well,” said Pamela as she kissed her, “this is a new type of bride.  Not the nerve-shattered, milliner-ridden creature with writer’s cramp in her hand from thanking people for useless presents!  You don’t look as if you were worrying at all.”

“I’m not,” said Jean.  “Why should I?  There will be nobody there to criticise me.  There are no preparations to make, so I needn’t fuss.  Biddy’s right.  It’s the best way to be married.”

“I needn’t ask if you are happy, my Jean girl?”

Jean flung her arms round Pamela’s neck.

“After having Biddy for my own, the next best thing is having you for a sister.  I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

“Ah, my dear,” said Pamela, “the debt is all on my side.  You set the solitary in families....”

Mhor here entered, shouting that the car was waiting to take them to the station to meet the Macdonalds, and Jean hurried away.

An hour later the whole party met round the dinner-table.  Mhor had been allowed to sit up.  Other nights he consumed milk and bread and butter and eggs at 5.30, and went to bed an hour later, leaving Jock to change his clothes and descend to dinner and the play, an arrangement that caused a good deal of friction.  But to-night all bitterness was forgotten, and Mhor beamed on everyone.