III

The news that Calliope was to "give Hannah Hager a wedding" was received

in Friendship with unaffected pleasure. Every one liked the tireless

little thing, and those who could do so sent something to Calliope's

house for a wedding-gift. These things Calliope jealously kept secret,

intending not to let Hannah see them until the very hour of the

ceremony. But when on Wednesday, some while before the appointed time, I

went to the house, Calliope took me to the dining-room where the gifts

were displayed.

"Some of 'em's real peculiar," she confided; "some of 'em's what I call

pick-up presents--things from 'round the house, you know. Mis'

Postmaster Sykes she sent over the rug with the running dog on, and

she's hed it in her parlor in a dark corner for years an' Hannah must

have cleaned it many's the time. Mis' Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss sent

her old drop-leaf mahogany table, being she's got a new oak. The Liberty

girls sent two of their chickens, live, for the wedding lunch, and I

dassent to kill them--I'm real queer like that--so I hed to send for the

groom, and he run up noon-hour and done it. And so on. But quite a few

things are new--the granite iron and the drip coffee-pot and the

sweeper's all new. And did you hear what Gramma Hawley done? Drew five

dollars of her burial money out of the savings bank and give it to

Hannah right out. You know how Gramma fixed it--she had Zittelhof figger

up her funeral expenses and she banked the sum, high and dry, and left

herself just bare enough to live on coming in. But now she drew the five

out and give Zittelhof to understand he'd hev to skimp some on her

coffin. Hannah told me, crying like a child at the i-dee."

Calliope paused impressively, and shook her head at space.

"But wouldn't you have thought," she demanded, "that Lyddy Eider might

have give Hannah a little something to wear? One of her old dresses for

street would have sent Hannah cloud-high, and over. I s'pose you heard

what she did send? Mis' Postmaster Sykes run over to tell me. A man from

the city come up by trolley sense noon to-day, bringing a rug from

Lyddy. Well, of course a rug's a rug," Calliope admitted, "but it ain't

a dress, seem's though. Hannah knows about Gramma's an' Lyddy's, but she

don't know a word about the other presents. I do admire a surprise."

As for me, I, too, love a surprise. And that was why I had sent to the

station a bag packed for both Calliope and me; and I meant, when the

wedding guests should have gone, to take no denial, but to hurry

Calliope into her "black grosgrain with the white turnovers," and with

her to catch the six-ten express as we had planned aforetime. For pink

silk might appear and disappear, but "Faust" would still be "Faust."

There were ten guests at Hannah's wedding, friends of hers and of

Henry's, pleasantly excited, pleasantly abashed.

"And not one word do they know about the pink silk," Calliope whispered

me. "Hannah's going to come with it on--I let her take my tan ulster to

wear over her, walking through the streets, so. Do you know," she said

earnestly, "if it wasn't for disappointing you I wouldn't feel anything

but good about that dress?"

"Ah, well, I won't be disappointed," I prophesied confidently.

Grandma Hawley was last to arrive. And the little old woman was in some

stress of excitement, talking incessantly and disconnectedly; but this

we charged to the occasion.

"My head ain't right," she said. "It ain't been right for a while

back--it hums and rings some. When I went in the room I thought it was

my head the matter. I thought I didn't see right. But I did--I did,

Hannah said I did. My head felt some better this mornin', an' that was

there, just the same. I thought I'd be down flat on my back when I got

m' feet wet, but I'd be all right if m' head wa'n't so bad. I must tell

Hannah what I done. Why don't Hannah come?"

Hannah was, as a matter of fact, somewhat late at her wedding. We were

all in some suspense when we saw her at last, hurrying up the street

with Henry, who had gallantly called to escort her; and Calliope and I

went to the door to meet her.

But when Hannah entered in Calliope's tan ulster buttoned closely about

her throat, she was strangely quiet and somewhat pale and her eyes, I

was certain, were red with weeping.

"Is Gramma here?" she asked at once, and, at our answer, merely turned

to hurry upstairs where Calliope and I were to adjust the secret

wedding-gown and fasten a pink rose in her hair. And, as we went, Henry

added still further to our anxiety by calling from the gay little crowd

about him a distinctly soothing:

"Now, then. Now, then, Hannah!"

Up in Calliope's tiny chamber Hannah turned and faced us, still with

that manner of suppressed and escaping excitement. And when we would

have helped with the ulster she caught at its collar and held it about

her throat as if, after all, she were half minded to depart from the

place and let her good-looking giant be married alone.

"Oh, Miss Marsh, ma'am," she said, trembling, "oh, Miss Marsh. I can't

dare tell you what I done."

With that she broke down and cried, and Calliope promptly took her in

her arms, as I think that she would have liked to take the whole

grieving world. And now, as she soothed her, she began gently to

unbutton the tan ulster, and Hannah let her take it off. But even the

poor child's tears had not prepared us for what was revealed.

Hannah had come to her wedding wearing, not the rose-pink silk, but the

last year's mull "with the sprig in."

"Well, sir!" cried Calliope blankly. "Well, Hannah Hager--"

The little maid sat on the foot of the bed, sobbing.

"Oh, Miss Marsh, ma'am," she said, "you know--don't you know,

ma'am?--how I was so glad about the dress you give me't I was as weak

as a cat all over me. All las' night in the evenin' I was like a trance

an' couldn't get my supper down, an' all. An' Gramma, she was over to

Mis' Sykes's to supper an' hadn't seen it. An' Gramma an' I sleep

together, an' I went an' spread the dress on the bed, an' I set side of

it till Henry come. An' I l-left it there to hev him go in an' l-look at

it. An' we was in the kitchen a minute or two first. An' nex' we knew,

Gramma, she stood in the inside door. An' I thought she was out of her

head she was so wild-like an' laughin' an' cryin'. An' she set down on a

chair, an' s' she: 'He's done it. He's done it. He's kep' his word.

Look--look on my bed,' s' she, 'an' see if I ain't seen it right. Abe

Hawley,' s' she, 'he's sent me my pink silk dress he wanted to, out o'

the grave!'"

Hannah's thin, rough little hands were clinched on her knee and her eyes

searched Calliope's face.

"Oh, Miss Marsh, ma'am," she said, "she was like one possessed, beggin'

me to look at it an' tell her if it wasn't so. She thought mebbe it

might be her head. So I went an' told her the dress was hers," the

little maid sobbed. "I was scairt she'd make herself sick takin' on so.

An' after_wards_ I couldn't a-bear to tell her any different. Ma'am, if

you could 'a' seen her! She took her rocker an' set by the bed all

hours, kind o' gentlin' the silk with her hands. An' she wouldn't go to

bed an' disturb it off, an' I slep' on the dinin'-room lounge with the

shawl over me. An' this m-mornin' she went on just the same. An' after

dinner Lyddy sent a man from town with a rug for me, an' I set on the

back stoop so's not to see him, I was cryin' so. An' when I come in

Gramma hed shut the bedroom door an' gone. I couldn't trust me even to

l-look in the bedroom for fear I'd put it on. An' I couldn't take it

away from her--I couldn't. Not with all she's done for me, an' the five

dollars an' all. Oh, Miss Marsh, ma'am--" Hannah ended helplessly.

It seemed to me that I had never known Calliope until that moment.

"Gracious," she said to Hannah calmly, "crying that way for a little

pink silk dress, and Henry waiting for you downstairs! Wipe up your eyes

this instant minute, Hannah, and get to 'I will'!"

I think that this attitude of Calliope's must have tranquillized the

wildest. In spite of the reality of the tragedy, it was no time at all

until, having put the pink rose in Hannah's hair, anyway, Calliope and I

led the little bride downstairs. For was there not a reality of

happiness down there?

"After all, Henry was marrying you and not the dress, you know,"

Calliope reminded her on the landing.

"That's what he keeps a-sayin'," consented Hannah with a wan little

smile, "but oh, ma'am--" she added, for Hannah was all feminine.

And when the "I will" had been said, I loved the little creature for

taking Grandma Hawley in her arms.

"Did they tell you what I done?" the old woman questioned anxiously when

Hannah kissed her. "I was savin' it to tell you, an' it went out o' my

head. An' I dunno--did you know what I done?" she persisted.

But the others crowded forward with congratulation and, as was their

fashion, with teasing; and presently I think that even the rosy gown was

forgotten in Hannah's delight over her unexpected gifts. The

graniteware, the sweeper, the rug with the running dog--after all, was

ever any one so blessed?

And as I watched them--Hannah and her great, good-looking adoring

giant--I who, like Calliope, love a surprise, caught a certain plan by

its shining wings and held it close. They say that when one does this

such wings bear one away--and so it proved.

I found my chance and whispered my plan to Hannah, half for the pastime

of seeing the quickening color in her cheek and the light in her eyes.

Then I told the giant, chiefly for the sake of noting how some

mischievous god smote him with a plague of blushes. And they both

consented--and that is the way when one clings to the wings of a plan.

So it came about that in the happy bustle of the parting, as Hannah in

her "regular brown Sunday suit" went away on Henry's arm, they two and

I exchanged glances of pleasant significance. Then, when every one had

gone, I turned to Calliope with authority.

"Put on," I bade her, "your black grosgrain silk with the white

turnovers--and mind you don't slit it up the back seam!"

"I'm a-goin' to do my dishes up," said Calliope. "Can't you set a spell

and talk it over?"

"Hurry," I commanded, "or we shall miss the six-ten express!"

"What do you mean?" she asked in alarm.

"Leave everything," said I. "There's a box waiting for us at the opera

to-night. And supper afterward."

"You ain't--" she said tremulously.

"I am," I assured her firmly, "and so are you. And Hannah and Henry are

going with us. Hurry!"