Part 42 (1/2)

”I have seen much handsomer men,” declared Charlotte, firmly, as she carefully pinned her sister's veil.

”Well, I would like to know where? Not in this town?”

”Yes, in this town.”

”Who?”

”Mr. Anderson.”

”The grocer?”

”Yes,” said Charlotte, defiantly. The veil was pinned, and Ina turned and looked at her, a rosy vision behind a film of gray lace. ”You look lovely,” said Charlotte, who had a soft pink in her cheeks.

”I think this hat is a beauty,” said Ina. ”Wasn't it lucky that New Sanderson milliner was so very good, and did not object to giving credit? Why, Mr. Anderson is the grocer! That is the man you mean, isn't it, honey?”

”Yes,” replied Charlotte, still with defiance.

”Oh, well, that doesn't count,” said Ina, turning for a last view of herself in the gla.s.s. ”This dress fits beautifully.”

”I don't see what that has to do with it,” said Charlotte, as they left the room. She felt, even in the midst of parting, and without knowing why, a little indignation with her sister.

On the threshold, Ina paused suddenly and flung her arms around the other girl. ”Oh, honey,” she said, with a half-sob--”oh, honey, how can we talk of who is handsome and who isn't, whether he is the butcher, the baker, or the candlestick-maker, when, when--” The two clung together for a minute, then Charlotte put her sister gently away.

”You will muss your veil, dearest,” said she, ”and it is almost time to go, and Amy and papa will want the last of you.”

That night, after the bridal pair had departed and everybody else had gone to bed, Anna Carroll and her brother had a little conference in the parlor amid the debris of the wedding splendor. The flowers and greens were drooping, the room and the whole house had that peculiar phase of squalidness which comes alone from the ragged ends of festivities; the floors were strewn with rice and rose leaves and crumbs from the feast; plates and cups and saucers or fragments stood about everywhere; the chairs and the tables were in confusion. Anna, who had been locking up the silver for the night, had come into the parlor, and found her brother standing in a curious, absent-minded fas.h.i.+on in the middle of the floor.

”Why, Arthur!” said she. ”I thought you had gone to bed.”

”I am going,” said he, but he made no move.

Anna looked at him, and her expression was weary and a little bitter.

”Well, it is over,” said she.

Carroll nodded. ”Yes,” he said, with a half-suppressed sigh.

Anna glanced around the room. ”This house is a sight for one maid to wrestle with,” said she; and her brother, beyond a glance of the utmost indifference around the chaotic room, did not seem to notice her remark at all. However, that she did not resent. Indeed, she herself was so far from taking the matter to heart that she laughed a little as she continued to survey the ruins.

”Well, it went off well; it was a pretty wedding,” said she, with a certain tone of pleasure.

Carroll turned to her quite eagerly. ”You think Ina was pleased?” he said. ”It was all as she wished it to be?”

”What could a girl have wished more?” cried Anna. ”Everything was charming, just as it should be. All I think about is--”

”What?” asked her brother.

”We have danced,” said Anna. ”What I want to know is, is the piper to be paid, or shall we have to dance to another tune by way of reprisal.”

”The piper is paid,” replied Carroll, shortly. He turned to go, but his sister stepped in front of him.