green silk gown; "he's more than half-converted to socialism, anyway."
The bishop laughed.
"How's that, Barry?" he inquired. "Has some one been leading you into by and forbidden paths?"
"No," replied Barry, hesitatingly. "I mean, yes. Say, Bishop, I want to see you for a minute—alone—entirely alone; strictly confidential business."
"Certainly!" replied the bishop, affably. "I'm sure the ladies will excuse us. They can discuss, in our absence, fashion, society, religion, suffrage, or the Church, as they choose."
He bowed politely and smilingly to each woman in turn, drew Barry into the library, and closed the library door.
With a sigh of relief the rescued young man dropped into the nearest chair.
"She pretty near got me that time!" he exclaimed, pulling his handkerchief nervously from his pocket and wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
"Who nearly got you?" inquired the bishop.
"Why, Miss Say, Bishop, could you marry a couple that might drop in on you casually, suddenly, say just as though it were this afternoon?"
"I could," was the reply, "provided I was not trenching on the preserves of the parish priest, and provided the couple brought along their marriage license."
"Their what?"
"Their marriage license."
"A fellow can't get married unless he has a marriage license?"
"Not in this state."
"And has he got to get the license himself?"
"He must apply for it in person. But let me ask: what is the meaning of all these questions?"
Barry did not reply. He heaved another great sigh of relief, and settled back in his chair. He had discov-
