But all the first day of the bank's closing and all the next day John worked among the people, reassuring them.

So that it was five o'clock in the evening before he could start to Minneola for his wedding.
And such a wedding! One would say that when hard times were staring every one in the face, social forms would be observed most simply.

But one would say so without reckoning with Mrs.Lycurgus Mason.

As the groom and the bridesmaid and best man rode up from Sycamore Valley, two miles from Minneola, in the early falling dusk that night, the Mason House loomed through the darkness, lighted up like a steamboat.
"You'll have to move along, John," said Bob Hendricks; "I think I heard her whistle." On the sidewalk in front of the hotel they met Mrs.Mason in her black silk with a hemstitched linen apron over it.

She ushered them into the house, took them to their rooms, and whirled John around on a pivot, it seemed to him, with her interminable directions.