“The sun shines brightly, too,” added Grace, “reminding one of the old saying I have so often heard quoted:  ’Happy is the bride on whom the sun shines.’”

“It is pleasant to see it shining, yet I do not believe Rosie would hesitate a moment, or feel the least anxiety about its effect upon her future happiness, if the rain were pouring down,” said Lucilla; “because she has great confidence in her bridegroom that is to be, and not a particle of superstition in her nature.”

“That is giving her high praise,” said Keith, “for there are few who are entirely free from it, though very many are hardly aware of its hold upon them.”

“You are quite correct, I think, sir,” remarked Dr. Percival; “we are all apt to be blind to our own feelings, and hardly conscious that our prejudices and superstitions are such, blind to our weakness—­even more to the mental than to the physical.”

“Then how well it is that there is no occasion for their exercise, or for battling with them to-day,” observed Violet in a sprightly tone; “and though, of course, mamma and all of us must, when Rosie is gone, miss our constant sweet companionship with her, we ought not to mourn, but rather rejoice that she is going into a Christian family and gaining a devoted Christian for a life companion.”

“Yes; that is indeed a cause for joy and gratitude,” said Keith.

“Father, will Mr. Croly be any relation to us after he gets married to Aunt Rosie?” queried Ned.

“Yes, my son; brother to your mamma and me, and uncle to the rest of you.”

“Meaning Neddie himself and Elsie, papa?” Grace said half interrogatively and with an amused little laugh.

“Ah, yes! he is certainly too young to be, or wish to be, that to my older daughters,” returned her father with a look of amusement.

“No danger that he will want to claim that relationship, Gracie,” laughed Lucilla.  “Even Walter does not, though I know you are a particular favourite with him; but he, to be sure, is still younger than Mr. Croly by some years.”

“It is at two o’clock Aunt Rosie is to be married, then there will be the wedding feast, and after that the bride and groom will go on a journey,” said Neddie, as if bestowing a piece of valuable information upon his hearers.

“Yes,” said Elsie, “but, as everybody knows it, what’s the use of telling it?”

“I thought perhaps Cousin Donald and Cousin Dick didn’t know it—­at least, not all of it,” said Ned.

Then his father told him he had talked quite enough, and must be quiet during the rest of the meal.

“We who are to be the bride’s attendants should go over early, I think,” remarked Lucilla.  “At least we, the older ones,” she added with a smiling glance at Elsie; “the little flower girls will not be needed until somewhat later.”

“You may set your own time,” her father said.  “I will send you and Grace over in the family carriage, and it can return in full season for the use of anyone else who desires it.  We have a variety of horses and conveyances, gentlemen, any or all of them at your service at whatever hour you may appoint,” he added, turning to his guests.  “There will be abundance of time for a ride or drive for mere exercise or enjoyment, before donning your attire for the grand occasion, if you wish to take it.”