On the night of the auspicious occasion, Mrs. Jenkins's home presented a
scene of festivity. Neighbors had loaned their lamps, and the brakeman
had hung out his red lantern in token of welcome and cheer. It was,
however, mistaken by some of the guests as a signal of danger, and they
were wary of their steps lest they be ditched. Mrs. Hudgers ventured the
awful prognostication that "mebby some of them Jenkins brats had gone
and got another of them ketchin' diseases."
When they entered the house there was a general exclamation of
admiration. The curtain partitions had been removed, and the big room
was beautifully decorated with festoons and masses of green interspersed
with huge bunches of June roses.
Derry and Flamingus received the guests. Upstairs the Boarder and the
brakeman were nervously awaiting the crucial moment. The door into the
Annex was closed, for in the sitting-room was the little bride, her pale
cheeks delicately tinted from excitement as Colette artistically
adjusted the bridal veil, fastening it with real orange blossoms.
Amarilly hovered near in an ecstasy which was perforce silent on account
of her mouth being full of pins.
"There's Mr. St. John's carriage," she managed to murmur as she peered
from the window.
Colette dropped her paper of pins, went hastily into the adjoining
bedroom and slipped out again before John Meredith was ushered in where
the surplice immaculately laundered, was waiting to be donned by its
original owner.
After slipping it on, John's hand from force of habit sought the pocket
and there encountered something. He drew it forth wonderingly. It was a
small, silver-monogrammed envelope sealed and addressed to him in
Colette's handwriting. He read the note once, twice, thrice. Then there
was a knock at the door that led into the Annex sitting-room. He opened
it to admit Amarilly.
"Are you ready?" she asked. "You're to go in with them. They--"
She paused and stared at him. The transformation in his face was
wonderful.
"Yes, I am ready, Amarilly," he replied, and something in his voice
sounded strange to her.
He followed her into the next room where the Boarder, awkward in his
Sunday clothes, but regal in his pride in the little, white-veiled
figure at his side, was awaiting him.
John walked out into the Jenkins's part of the house with them, while
Amarilly slipped home by way of the Annex bedroom.
The entrance was certainly effective to the neighbors.
"Ain't she a lily though!" "Look at that long veil onct!" "Jest like 'a
picter!" "What a swell waist" "That big bo'quet!" "I niver seed sech
flowers afore." "That surplus makes it look like picters!"