Lavender and Old Lace [44]
sitting in the parlour, plainly nervous.
"Now Ruth," said Aunt Jane, "you can go after the minister. My first choice is Methodis', after that Baptis' and then Presbyterian. I will entertain James durin' your absence."
Ruth was longing for fresh air and gladly undertook the delicate mission. Before she was half way down the hill, she met Winfield, who had come on the afternoon train.
"You're just in time to see a wedding," she said, when the first raptures had subsided.
"Whose wedding, sweetheart? Ours?"
"Far from it," answered Ruth, laughing. "Come with me and I'll explain."
She gave him a vivid description of the events that had transpired during his absence, and had invited him to the wedding before it occurred to her that Aunt Jane might not be pleased. "I may be obliged to recall my invitation," she said seriously, "I'll have to ask Aunty about it. She may not want you."
"That doesn't make any difference," announced Winfield, in high spirits, "I'm agoin' to the wedding and I'm a-goin' to kiss the bride, if you'll let me."
Ruth smothered a laugh. "You may, if you want to, and I won't be jealous. Isn't that sweet of me?"
"You're always sweet, dear. Is this the abode of the parson?"
The Methodist minister was at home, but his wife was not, and Ruth determined to take Winfield in her place. The clergyman said that he would come immediately, and, as the lovers loitered up the hill, they arrived at the same time.
Winfield was presented to the bridal couple, but there was no time for conversation, since Aunt Jane was in a hurry. After the brief ceremony was over, Ruth said wickedly:
"Aunty, on the way to the minister's, Mr. Winfield told me he was going to kiss the bride. I hope you don't mind?"
Winfield looked unutterable things at Ruth, but nobly fulfilled the obligation. Uncle James beamed upon Ruth in a way which indicated that an attractive idea lay behind it, and Winfield created a diversion by tipping over a vase of flowers. "He shan't," he whispered to Ruth, "I'll be darned if he shall!"
"Ruth," said Aunt Jane, after a close scrutiny of Winfield, "if you' relayin' out to marry that awkward creeter, what ain't accustomed to a parlour, you'd better do it now, while him and the minister are both here."
Winfield was willing, but Ruth said that one wedding at a time was enough in any family, and the minister, pledged to secrecy, took his departure. The bride cut the wedding cake and each solemnly ate a piece of it. It was a sacrament, rather than a festivity.
When the silence became oppressive, Ruth suggested a walk.
"You will set here, Niece Ruth," remarked Aunt Jane, "until I have changed my dress."
Uncle James sighed softly, as she went upstairs. "Well," he said, "I'm merried now, hard and fast, and there ain't no help for it, world without end."
"Cheer up, Uncle," said Winfield, consolingly, "it might be worse."
"It's come on me all of a sudden," he rejoined. "I ain't had no time to prepare for it, as you may say. Little did I think, three weeks ago, as I set in my little store, what was wuth four or five hundred dollars, that before the month was out, I'd be merried. Me! Merried!" he exclaimed, "Me, as never thought of sech!"
When Mrs. Ball entered, clad in sombre calico, Ruth, overcome by deep emotion, led her lover into the open air. "It's bad for you to stay in there, "she said gravely, "when you are destined to meet the same fate."
"I've had time to prepare for it," he answered, "in fact, I've had more time than I want."
They wandered down the hillside with aimless leisure, and Ruth stooped to pick up a large, grimy handkerchief, with "C. W." in the corner. "Here's where we were the other morning," she said.
"Blessed spot," he responded, "beautiful Hepsey and noble Joe! By what humble means are great destinies made evident! You haven't said you were glad to see me, dear."
"I'm always glad to see you, Mr. Winfield," she replied primly.
"Mr. Winfield isn't my name," he objected, taking her into his arms.
"Carl," she whispered shyly, to
"Now Ruth," said Aunt Jane, "you can go after the minister. My first choice is Methodis', after that Baptis' and then Presbyterian. I will entertain James durin' your absence."
Ruth was longing for fresh air and gladly undertook the delicate mission. Before she was half way down the hill, she met Winfield, who had come on the afternoon train.
"You're just in time to see a wedding," she said, when the first raptures had subsided.
"Whose wedding, sweetheart? Ours?"
"Far from it," answered Ruth, laughing. "Come with me and I'll explain."
She gave him a vivid description of the events that had transpired during his absence, and had invited him to the wedding before it occurred to her that Aunt Jane might not be pleased. "I may be obliged to recall my invitation," she said seriously, "I'll have to ask Aunty about it. She may not want you."
"That doesn't make any difference," announced Winfield, in high spirits, "I'm agoin' to the wedding and I'm a-goin' to kiss the bride, if you'll let me."
Ruth smothered a laugh. "You may, if you want to, and I won't be jealous. Isn't that sweet of me?"
"You're always sweet, dear. Is this the abode of the parson?"
The Methodist minister was at home, but his wife was not, and Ruth determined to take Winfield in her place. The clergyman said that he would come immediately, and, as the lovers loitered up the hill, they arrived at the same time.
Winfield was presented to the bridal couple, but there was no time for conversation, since Aunt Jane was in a hurry. After the brief ceremony was over, Ruth said wickedly:
"Aunty, on the way to the minister's, Mr. Winfield told me he was going to kiss the bride. I hope you don't mind?"
Winfield looked unutterable things at Ruth, but nobly fulfilled the obligation. Uncle James beamed upon Ruth in a way which indicated that an attractive idea lay behind it, and Winfield created a diversion by tipping over a vase of flowers. "He shan't," he whispered to Ruth, "I'll be darned if he shall!"
"Ruth," said Aunt Jane, after a close scrutiny of Winfield, "if you' relayin' out to marry that awkward creeter, what ain't accustomed to a parlour, you'd better do it now, while him and the minister are both here."
Winfield was willing, but Ruth said that one wedding at a time was enough in any family, and the minister, pledged to secrecy, took his departure. The bride cut the wedding cake and each solemnly ate a piece of it. It was a sacrament, rather than a festivity.
When the silence became oppressive, Ruth suggested a walk.
"You will set here, Niece Ruth," remarked Aunt Jane, "until I have changed my dress."
Uncle James sighed softly, as she went upstairs. "Well," he said, "I'm merried now, hard and fast, and there ain't no help for it, world without end."
"Cheer up, Uncle," said Winfield, consolingly, "it might be worse."
"It's come on me all of a sudden," he rejoined. "I ain't had no time to prepare for it, as you may say. Little did I think, three weeks ago, as I set in my little store, what was wuth four or five hundred dollars, that before the month was out, I'd be merried. Me! Merried!" he exclaimed, "Me, as never thought of sech!"
When Mrs. Ball entered, clad in sombre calico, Ruth, overcome by deep emotion, led her lover into the open air. "It's bad for you to stay in there, "she said gravely, "when you are destined to meet the same fate."
"I've had time to prepare for it," he answered, "in fact, I've had more time than I want."
They wandered down the hillside with aimless leisure, and Ruth stooped to pick up a large, grimy handkerchief, with "C. W." in the corner. "Here's where we were the other morning," she said.
"Blessed spot," he responded, "beautiful Hepsey and noble Joe! By what humble means are great destinies made evident! You haven't said you were glad to see me, dear."
"I'm always glad to see you, Mr. Winfield," she replied primly.
"Mr. Winfield isn't my name," he objected, taking her into his arms.
"Carl," she whispered shyly, to