But here he was interrupted by a clamor of voices that fairly poured its volume around the corner of the house.  In two seconds it explained itself by its very appearance.  First came Matthew, walking slowly, and in his arms he carried a soaked bundle which he held to his breast as tenderly, I was sure, as young Mrs. Buford was holding the blue bundle in the parlor, and two long plaits hung down over his arm.  From between him and the bundle there came a feeble squawking and fluttering of wings.  From them all poured rivulets of water, and mingled with the squawks were weak gurgles.  As I looked, Matthew stopped and lifted the bundle closer on his breast, disclosing its identity as that of Polly, and buried his face in the soaked hair while they all stood dripping together as the rest of us stood perfectly silent and still.

“That fool Henri let the Golden Bird get away, and he flew across the river and fell in a tangle of undergrowth.  Rufus called Polly, and she plunged right in after him.  Her dress caught on the same snag and God, Ann, they were being sucked under just as I got to them.  She’s still unconscious.”  In some ways as unconscious as was the Corn-tassel, Matthew began to press hot kisses on the face under his chin which brought forth a feeble choke.

“Lay her down on the porch, and I’ll show you how to empty her lungs, Berry,” said Adam, laying down his bundle and taking charge of the situation, as all the rest, even capable Aunt Mary, still stood helpless before the catastrophe.  Reluctantly, Matthew obeyed.

“Uncle Cradd, go in the house and tell them all what has happened, and ask them all to come out on the cool of the lawn until we can have the wedding.  It will be in just a few minutes, tell them,” I said, with the brain that had taken the incubator eggs to bed with Bess and me beginning to act rapidly.  “Let me speak to you just a second, Matt,” I said, and drew the dazed and dripping bridegroom to one side.

“Matthew,” I said very quietly and slowly so that I would not have to repeat the words, “I’m not going to marry you at all, but I’m going to marry Evan Baldwin.  I’ll tell you all about it when I come back from my honeymoon with him.  You help me put it through and then stay right here and look after Polly.  She may suffer terribly from shock.”

“Oh, God, Ann, my heart turned over in my breast and kicked when I saw her sink, and for a minute I couldn’t find her,” Matthew said as he gave a dripping shudder that shook some of the water off him and on my tulle.  To the announcement of the loss of a bride he gave no heed at all, for at that moment, as Pan lifted the drenched bundle across his knees and patted it, a faint voice moaned out Matthew’s name, and he flew to receive the revived Polly in his arms.

“Now, hold her that way until I am sure I have established complete respiration,” commanded Pan.  “You women begin to take these wet rags off of her.  Get two blankets.”  At which command the rest of the bridal party flew to work in different directions and I with them.  Bess and I arrived in my room at the same moment, and she seized the two blankets I drew from the chest and departed without waiting for words.  As I drew out the blankets, something else rolled to the floor, and I saw it was my Romney bundle, packed weeks before my death.