Two days later they were married, very quietly, in the little Church of Saint Charles Borromeo, where Julia’s father and mother had been married a quarter of a century ago.  They had “taken advantage,” as Julia said, of her old grandfather’s death, and announced that because the bride’s family was in mourning the ceremony would be a very quiet one.  Even the press was not notified; the Tolands filled two pews, and two more were filled by Julia’s mother, her grandmother, and cousins.  Kennedy Scott Marbury and her husband were there, and sturdy two-year-old Scott Marbury, who was much interested in this extraordinary edifice and impressive proceeding, but there were no other witnesses.  Julia wore a dark-blue gown, and a wide black hat whose lacy brim cast a most becoming shadow over her lovely, serious face.  She and Miss Toland drove from the settlement house, and stopped to pick up Mrs. Page, who was awed by Julia’s dignity, and a little resentful of the way in which others had usurped her place with her daughter.  However, Emeline had very wisely decided to make the best of the situation, and treated Miss Toland with stiff politeness.  Julia was in a smiling dream, out of which she roused herself, at intervals, for only a gentle, absent-minded “Yes” or “No.”

“I tried to persuade her to be married at the Cathedral, by His Grace,” said Miss Toland to Mrs. Page.  “But she wanted it this way!”

“Well, I’m sure she feels you’ve done too much for her as it is,” Emeline said mincingly.  “Now she must turn around and return some of it!”

To this Miss Toland made no answer except an outraged snort, and a closer pressure of her fine, bony hand upon Julia’s warm little fingers.  They presently reached the church, and Julia was in Barbara’s hands.

“You look lovely, darling, and your hat is a dream!” said Barbara, who looked very handsome herself, in her brown suit and flower-trimmed hat.  “We go upstairs, I think.  Jim’s here, nervous as a fish.  You’re wonderful—­as calm!  I’d simply be in spasms.  Ted was awful; you’d think she had been married every day, but Robert—­his collar was wilted!”

They had reached the upper church now, and Miss Toland and Mrs. Page followed the girls down the long aisle to the altar.  Julia saw her little old grandmother, in an outrageous flowered bonnet, and Evelyn who was a most successful modiste now, and Marguerite, looking flushed and excited, with her fat, apple-faced young husband, and three lumpy little children.  Also her Aunt May was there, and some young people:  Muriel, who was what Evelyn had been at fifteen, and a toothless nine-year-old Regina, in pink, and some boys.  On the other side were the elegant Tolands, the dear old doctor in an aisle seat, with his hands, holding his eye-glasses and his handkerchief, fallen on either knee; Ted lovely in blue, Constance and Jane with Ned and Mrs. Ned, frankly staring.