Volume VI Part 23 (1/2)

[Footnote 6: Lippincott's Magazine.]

THE WEDDIN'

BY JENNIE BETTS HARTSWICK

Well, it's over, it's _all_ over--bein' the last to leave I know _that_--and I declare, I'm that full of all the things we had to eat that John and me won't want any supper for a good hour yet, so I just ran in to tell you about it while it's on top of my mind.

It's an everlastin' shame you had to miss it! One thing, though, you'll get a trayful of the good things sent in to you, I shouldn't wonder. I know there's loads left, for I happened to slip out to the kitchen for a drink of water--I was that _dry_ after all those salty nuts, and I didn't want to trouble 'em--and I saw just _heaps_ of things standin'

round.

Most likely you'll get a good, large plate of cake, not just a pinchin'

little mite of a piece in a box. The boxes is real pretty, though, and they did look real palatial all stacked up on a table by the front door with a strange colored man, in white gloves like a pall-bearer, to hand 'em to you.

How did I get two of 'em? Why, it just happened that way. You see, when I was leavin' I missed my sun-shade and I laid my box down on the hatrack-stand while I went upstairs to look for it. I went through all the rooms, and just when I'd about given it up, why, there it was, right in my hand all the time! Wasn't it foolish? And when I came downstairs I found I'd clean forgot where I'd laid that box of cake. I hunted _everywhere_, and then I just had to tell the man how 'twas, so he handed me another one, and I was just walkin' out the front door when, would you believe it! if there wasn't the _other_ one, just as innocent, on the hatrack-stand where I had laid it. So now I have three of 'em, countin' John's.

I just can't seem to realize that Eleanor Jamison is married at last, can you? She took her time if ever anybody did. They do say she was real taken with that young college professor with the full beard and spectacles that visited there last summer, and then to think that, after all, she went and married a man with a smooth face. He wears gla.s.ses, though; that's one point in common.

Eleanor's gone off a good deal lately, don't you think so? You hadn't noticed it? But then you never was any great hand at noticin', I've noticed you weren't. Why, the other day when I was there offerin' to help 'em get ready for the weddin' I noticed that she looked real _worn_, and there was two or three little fine lines in her eye-corners--not real _wrinkles_, of course--but we all know that lines is a forerunner. Her hair's beginnin' to turn, too; I noticed that comin' out of church last Sunday. I dare say her knowing this made her less particular than she'd once have been; and after all, marryin' any husband is a good deal like buyin' a new black silk dress pattern--an awful risk.

You may look at it on both sides and hold it up to the light, and pull it to see if it'll fray and try if it'll spot, but you can't be sure what it'll do till after you've worn it a spell.

There's one advantage to the dress pattern, though--you can make 'em take it back if you mistrust it won't wear--if you haven't cut into it, that is--but when you've got a husband, why, you've _got_ him, to have and to hold, for better and worse and good and all.

Yes, I'm comin' to the weddin'--I declare, when I think how careless Eleanor is about little things I can't help mistrusting what kind of a housekeeper she'll turn out. Why, when John's and my invitation came it was only printed to the church--there wasn't any reception card among it.

Now I've supplied Eleanor's folks with b.u.t.ter and eggs and spring chickens for thirty years, and I'd just have gone anyway, for I knew it was a mistake, but John held out that 'twasn't--that they didn't mean to have us to the house part; so to settle it I went right over and told 'em. I told Eleanor she mustn't feel put out about it--we was all mortal--and if it hadn't been for satisfyin' John I'd never have let her know how careless she'd been--of course I'd made allowance, a weddin'

_is_ upsettin' to the intellect--and so 'twas all right.

I had a real good view of the ceremony; but 'twasn't _their_ fault that I had; it just happened that way.

When John and me got there I asked the young man at the door--he was a yusher and a stranger to me--to give us a front seat, but he said that all the front places was reserved for the relations of the bride and groom, and then I noticed that they'd tied off the middle aisle about seven pews back with white satin ribbons and a big bunch of pink roses.

It seemed real impolite to invite folks to a weddin' and then take the best seats themselves.

Well, just then I happened to feel my shoelacin' gettin' loose and I stepped to one side to fix it; and when I got up from stoopin' and my gloves on and b.u.t.toned--I had to take 'em off to tie my shoe--and straightened John's cravat for him, why, there was the families on both sides just goin' in.

Of course we had to follow right along behind 'em, and when we came up to the ribbons--would you believe it?--the big bow just untied itself--or seemed to--I heard afterward it was done by somebody pullin'

a invisible wire--and we all walked through and took seats. I made John go into the pew ahead of me so's I could get out without disturbin'

anybody if I should have a headache or feel faint.

When John found we was settin' with the family--he was right close up against Eleanor's mother--he was for gettin' up and movin' back. But I just whispered to him, ”John Appleby, do sit still! I hear the bridal party comin'!”

Of course I didn't just _hear 'em_, but I was sure they'd be along in a minute, and I knew it wouldn't do to move our seats anyway, as if we weren't satisfied with 'em.

The church was decorated beautiful. Eleanor's folks must have cleaned out their green-house to put into it, besides _tons_ of greens from the city.