The autumn months were gone; December had come and "Christmas was coming."
The negroes far and near had counted the days which must pass before their
expected holidays. In Uncle Joshua's kitchen there was much talking and
laughing, fixing and fussing, and some crying. Had you asked the cause of
the crying, you would have been told that Miss Fanny was to be married
Christmas Eve, and the week following she would leave them and start for
New Orleans.
Preparations commenced on a large scale; for Uncle Joshua, a little proud,
it may be, of his handsome house, had determined on a large party. The old
gentleman even went so far as to order for himself a new suit of
broadcloth, saying by way of apology that, "though the jeens coat and
bagging pants did well enough for Josh, they wouldn't answer nohow for the
father of Mrs. Dr. George Lacey."
A week before the wedding Florence, who loved dearly to be in a bustle,
came laden with bandboxes and carpet bags. Hourly through the house rang
her merry laugh, as she flitted hither and thither, actually doing nothing
in her zeal to do everything. She had consented to be bridesmaid on
condition that she should choose her own groomsman, who she said should be
"Uncle Billy," as she always called Mr. William Middleton, "unless
Providence sent her some one she liked better." Whether it were owing to
Providence or to an invitation which went from Florence to New York we are
unable to say, but two days before the 24th Uncle Joshua surprised
Florence and Fanny by opening the door of the room where they were
sitting, and saying, "Ho, my boy, here they be--come on."
The girls started up, and in a moment Frank stood between them, with an
arm thrown around each. "Why, Mr. Cameron," said Florence, "what did you
come for, and who knew you were coming?"
"I came to see you, and you knew I was coming," answered Frank.
"Well, then," returned Florence, "if you came to see me, do look at me,
and not keep your eyes fixed so continually on Fanny. In a few days you
will be breaking the commandment which says: 'Thou shalt not covet thy
neighbor's wife.'"
"Possibly I might had I never seen you," answered Frank.
At a late hour that night Florence moved with soft footsteps about her
sleeping room, fearing lest she should awaken Fanny. Her precautions were
useless, for Fanny was awake; looking at Florence, she said, "Oh, Flory,
you naughty girl, what makes you blush so dreadfully?"