Early next day the sleeping morning was awakened by the sound of a horn.  It began somewhere in the village, wandered down the glen, crossed the bridge, plodded over the fields, and finally coiled round the house of the bride in thickening groans of discord.  This restless spirit in the grey light was meant as herald of the approaching wedding.  It came from the husky lungs of Mr. Jonaique Jelly.

Before daylight “The Manx Fairy” was already astir.  Somewhere in the early reaches of the dawn the house had its last dusting down at the hands of Nancy Joe.  Then Grannie finished, on hearth and griddle, the baking of her cakes.  After that, some of the neighbours came and carried off to their own fires the beef, mutton, chickens, and ducks intended for the day’s dinner.  It was woman’s work that was to the fore, and all idle men were hustled out of the way.

Towards nine o’clock breakfast was swallowed standing.  Then everybody began to think of dressing.  In this matter the men had to be finished off before the women could begin.  Already they were heard bellowing for help from unseen regions upstairs.  Grannie took Caesar in hand.  Pete was in charge of Nancy Joe.

It was found at the last moment that Pete had forgotten to provide himself with a white shirt.  He had nothing to be married in except the flannel one in which he came home from Africa.  This would never do.  It wasn’t proper, it wasn’t respectable.  There was no choice but to borrow a shirt of Caesar’s.  Caesar’s shirt was of ancient pattern, and Pete was shy of taking it.  “Take it, or you’ll have none,” said Nancy, and she pushed him back into his room.  When he emerged from it he walked with a stiff neck down the stairs in a collar that reached to his ears at either side, and stood out at his cheeks like the wings of a white bat, with two long sharp points on the level of his eyes, which he seemed to be watching warily to avoid the stab of their ironed starch.  At the same moment Caesar appeared in duck trousers, a flowered waistcoat, a swallow-tail coat, and a tall hat of rough black beaver.

The kitchen was full of men and women by this time, and groups of young fellows were gathered on the road outside, some with horses, saddled and bridled for the bride’s race home after the ceremony; others with guns ready loaded for firing as the procession appeared; and others again with lines of print handkerchiefs, which, as substitutes for flags, they were hanging from tree to tree.

At every moment the crowd became greater outside, and the company inside more dense.  John the Clerk called on his way to church, and whispered Pete that everything was ready, and they were going to sing a beautiful psalm.

“It isn’t many a man’s wedding I would be taking the same trouble with,” said John.  “When you are coming down the alley give a sight up, sir, and you’ll see me.”

“He’s only a poor thing,” said Mr. Jelly in Pete’s ear as John the Clerk went off.  “No more music in the man than my ould sow.  Did you hear the horn this morning, sir?  Never got up so early for a wedding before.  I’ll be giving you ‘the Black and the Grey’ going into the church.”

Grannie came down in a gigantic bonnet like a half-moon, with her white cap visible beneath it; and Nancy Joe appeared behind her, be-ribboned out of all recognition, and taller by many inches for the turret of feathers and flowers on the head that was usually bare.

Then the church bells began to peal, and Caesar made a prolonged A ­hm! and said in a large way, “Has the carriage arrived?”

“It’s coming over by the bridge now,” said somebody at the door, and at the next moment a covered wagonette drew up at the porch.

“All ready?” asked Caesar.

“Stop, sir,” said Pete, and then, turning to Nancy Joe, “Is it glad a man should be on his wedding-day, Nancy?”

“Why, of coorse, you goose.  What else?” she answered.

“Well, no man can be glad in a shirt like this,” said Pete; “I’m going back to take it off.”

Two minutes afterwards he reappeared in his flannel one, under his suit of blue pilot, looking simple and natural, and a man every inch of him.

“Now call the bride,” said Caesar.