ing the throng, Marija abandoned precipitately the debate
concerning the ancestors of her coachman, and, springing
from the moving carriage, plunged in and proceeded to
clear a way to the hall. Once within, she turned and
began to push the other way, roaring, meantime, "Eik!
Eik! Uzdaryk-duris!" in tones which made the orchestral
uproar sound like fairy music.

" Z. Graiczunas, Pasilinksminimams darzas. Vynas.
Sznapsas. Wines and Liquors. Union Headquarters" --
that was the way the signs ran. The reader, who per-
haps has never held much converse in the language of
far-off Lithuania, will be glad of the explanation that the
place was the rear-room of a saloon in that part of Chi-
cago known as "back of the yards." This information is
definite and suited to the matter of fact; but how piti-
fully inadequate it would have seemed to one who under-
stood that it was also the supreme hour of ecstasy in the
life of one of God's gentlest creatures, the scene of the
wedding-feast and the joy-transfiguration of little Ona
Lukoszaite!

She stood in the doorway, shepherded by Cousin Marija,
breathless from pushing through the crowd, and in her
happiness painful to look upon. There was a light of
wonder in her eyes and her lids trembled, and her other-
wise wan little face was flushed. She wore a muslin
dress, conspicuously white, and a stiff little veil coming to
her shoulders. There were five pink paper-roses twisted
in the veil, and eleven bright green rose-leaves. There
were new white cotton gloves upon her hands, and as she
stood staring about her she twisted them together fever-
ishly. It was almost too much for her -- you could see
the pain of too great emotion in her face, and all the
tremor of her form. She was so young -- not quite six-
teen -- and small for her age, a mere child; and she had
just been married -- and married to Jurgis, ¹ of all men, to
Jurgis Rudkus, he with the white flower in the button-
hole of his new black suit, he with the mighty shoulders
and the giant hands.

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