Tryon Dunham’s plans were well laid.  He first called up his friend the minister and told him to be ready; then a florist not far from the church; then a large department store where he had spent some time that morning.  “Is that Mr. Hunter, head of the fur department?  Mr. Hunter, this is Mr. Dunham.  You remember our conversation this morning?  Kindly send the coat and hat I selected to the Y.W.C.A.  Building at once.  Yes, just send them to the office.  You remember it was to be C.O.D., and I showed you my certified check this morning.  It’s all right, is it?  How long will it take you to get it there?...  All right.  Have the boy wait if I’m not there.  Good-by.”

His next move was to order a carriage, and have it stop at the florist’s on the way.  That done, he consulted his watch.  Seventeen minutes of his precious half-hour were gone.  With nervous haste he went into a telephone booth and called up his own home on the long-distance.

To his relief, his mother answered.

“Is that you, Mother?  This is Tryon.  Are you all well?  That’s good.  Yes, I’m in Chicago, but will soon be home.  Mother, I’ve something to tell you that may startle you, though there is nothing to make you sad.  You have known that there was something on my mind for some time.”  He paused for the murmur of assent.

He knew how his mother was looking, even though he could not see her—­that set look of being ready for anything.  He wanted to spare her as much as possible, so he hastened on: 

“You remember speaking to me about the ring I wore?”

“Tryon!  Are you engaged?” There was a sharp anxiety in the tone as it came through the hundreds of miles of space.

“One better, Mother.  I’m just about to be married!”

“My son!  What have you done?  Don’t forget the honorable name you bear!”

“No, Mother, I don’t forget.  She’s fine and beautiful and sweet.  You will love her, and our world will fall at her feet!”

“But who is she?  You must remember that love is very blind.  Tryon, you must come home at once.  I shall die if you disgrace us all.  Don’t do anything to spoil our lives.  I know it is something dreadful, or you would not do it in such haste.”

“Nothing of the kind, Mother.  Can’t you trust me?  Let me explain.  She is alone, and legal circumstances which it would take too long for me to explain over the ’phone have made it desirable for her to have my immediate protection.  We are going at once to Edwin Twinell’s church, and he will marry us.  It is all arranged, but I felt that you ought to be told beforehand.  We shall probably take the night express for home.  Tell Cornelia that I shall expect congratulations telegraphed to the hotel here inside of two hours.”

“But, Tryon, what will our friends think?  It is most extraordinary!  How can you manage about announcements?”

“Bother the red tape, Mother!  What difference does that make?  Put it in the society column if you want to.”