Part 9 (1/2)

”Great news, Rollo,” cried his mother, brightly but not so loudly as to be unladylike, ”great news! Your Uncle George is to be married and to whom do you think?”

Rollo thought of several of the gay ladies whom he had met during his evening parties with Uncle George, but, having lived in the city now for nearly a half-year, he had learned that it is not best to express one's thoughts too frankly at all times, and therefore answered, ”To whom, Mother? I am sure I cannot guess.”

”Why, to Anabelle's mother,” was the reply. ”Her first husband was a very wicked man, and Anabelle's mother was forced to leave him. She has just returned from visiting her folks in Reno, Nevada. The wedding is to be in her apartment on Park Avenue, and your Uncle writes to say that he hopes that you and Anabelle will be page and flower-girl on that occasion. Anabelle is to be allowed to come home from school for the great event.”

At these glad tidings, Rollo's depression vanished in a trice. All thought of dying was swept away by the realization that he was soon to see Anabelle again! And now perhaps you have some idea of what the third reason for his low spirits had been.

From that time on, events moved at a rapid pace, each more exciting than the last. First came the Bachelor Dinner, one of the strangest meals which Rollo had ever attended. Rollo's father did not approve of Uncle George's marriage, though when he learned that Anabelle's mother was very wealthy he said, ”Well, I shall voice no objection. George has made his bed; let him lie in it.”

Rollo thought this a coa.r.s.e remark, but kept silent as his father continued, ”As for this Bachelor Dinner, I do not approve of Rollo's attendance.”

”But there are to be handsome gifts,” said Rollo's mother. ”George informs me that everyone at the table is to receive a jewelled scarf pin, a splendid cravat, and a pair of gloves.”

”I do not wish to offend George,” said Rollo's father. ”The boy may as well go, but let him surely be home by nine o'clock. Do you remember what my glove size is, Mother?”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Gentlemen, with your kind permission I will read a poem”]

And so it was arranged.

It was, as I say, the strangest dinner Rollo had ever attended. It was served in a private room of the handsome edifice owned by Mr. Ritz, and the menu or bill-of-fare was most elaborate, consisting of beautiful, ornamental dishes which were whisked before Rollo's eyes in rapid succession. Each course was accompanied by a different beverage, and toward the end the serving gentlemen filled large tumblers with a most delicious sparkling cider, which Rollo vowed the best he had ever tasted.

Such fun as they had! The guests were eight in number, with Rollo making the ninth, and never had he seen such merry companions. Very few of rare viands were actually eaten, quite an amazing quant.i.ty being spilled, or thrown from one guest to another, and Rollo could not keep from thinking with some dismay of his bib at home which Lucy had cross-st.i.tched for him with the words ”Waste not, want not.” He was comforted, however, by the a.s.surance of a Mr. Stewart who sat next him, that the food would be sc.r.a.ped up in the morning and sent to the starving women of Mesopotamia.

Then the strangest thing happened. The cider-goblets having been filled, a Mr. Weaver, who was called the best-man, cried loudly,--”Bottoms up! To the bride.” At this shocking remark, everyone drained his portion of cider and then cast the goblet at the wall or ceiling or floor so that the handsome Brussels carpet was covered with broken gla.s.s.

”Well, I declare!” thought Rollo, ”if Mr. Weaver is the _best_ man, I wonder what the others are like!” and partly to hide his confusion, partly to restore order, he rose and said, ”Gentlemen, with your kind permission, I will read a poem.”

”'Ray, 'ray,” shouted Uncle George, ”Squiet, please, squiet.”

Then Rollo read as follows:

”O, Hail! O beauteous, blus.h.i.+ng bride Your future will be happy we know, When you are by your husband's side, And no more with your folks in Reno.

Your other husband, I've heard say, Was one in whom affection dwindled, But Uncle George I'm sure will stay And tend the fire which he has kindled.”

Rollo's poem was a great success and after that a Mr. Bishop and a Mr.

Benchley sang many duets, while the others made speeches, to which Uncle George replied, sitting on the floor and making gestures over the edge of the table.

The sun was s.h.i.+ning when Rollo reached home and placed his cravat and gloves at his father's door, keeping the scarf pin for himself, but the little fellow was delighted to see that it was only half after seven by the parlour clock, so that he had obeyed his father's instructions and got home before nine after all.

The next day was the wedding and you may be sure Rollo was up betimes, after a refres.h.i.+ng sleep of ten minutes. He dressed himself with particular care, his heart pounding with excitement, for to-day he was to see Anabelle, who had arrived from her seminary the evening before!

All the family were early astir, and there was much scrubbing and inspection of finger nails and ears, and rustling of starchy garments, and at promptly half after eleven, the entire family set forth, except Jonas, who had gone before in his squeakiest shoes, for he was to guard the wedding gifts lest some of the guests should steal them.

The apartment was large but the company was larger and, as many had already arrived, Rollo soon found himself in a dense crowd in which he could catch no glimpse of Anabelle, but had only a view of the elbows and waist-lines which were on a level with his eyes. Just as he was feeling quite faint and stunned from b.u.mping his head against the gentlemen's hip-pockets, he was rescued by Mr. Stewart and dragged into a room where the ushers were forming the nuptial procession.

Suddenly, from a veritable forest of rubber-plants, the strains of Mendelssohn's Wedding March smote the air, the hum of conversation died down and the lovely bride, preceded by Anabelle, and accompanied by her aged father in a wheel-chair, moved majestically down an aisle which Jonas had cleared. Rollo was propelled forward into his place, and, blus.h.i.+ng furiously, marched by Anabelle's side until they reached the arch of smilax and roses beneath which stood Dr. Ordway, the minister.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”--What a happy ending it is”]