"Well, I _hope_ Harry will be happy," said Ruth's mother-in-law, old
Mrs. Hall, as she untied her cap-strings, and seated herself in the
newly-furnished parlor, to await the coming of the bride and bridegroom.
"I can't say, though, that I see the need of his being married. I always
mended his socks. He has sixteen bran new shirts, eight linen and eight
cotton. I made them myself out of the Hamilton long-cloth. Hamilton
long-cloth is good cotton, too; strong, firm, and wears well. Eight
cotton and eight linen shirts! Can anybody tell what he got married for?
_I_ don't know. If he tired of his boarding-house, of course he could
always come home. As to Ruth, I don't know anything about her. Of course
she is perfect in _his_ eyes. I remember the time when he used to think
_me_ perfect. I suppose I shall be laid on the shelf now. Well, what
beauty he can find in that pale, golden hair, and those blue-gray eyes,
I don't know. I can't say I fancy the family either. Proud as Lucifer,
all of 'em. Nothing to be proud of, either. The father next to nothing
when he began life. The son, a conceited jackanapes, who divides his
time between writing rhymes and inventing new ties for his cravat.
Well, well, we shall see; but I doubt if this bride is anything but a
well-dressed doll. I've been peeping into her bureau drawers to-day.
What is the use of all those ruffles on her under-clothes, I'd like to
know? Who's going to wash and iron them? _Presents_ to her! Well, why
don't people make _sensible_ presents,--a dozen of dish towels, some
crash rollers, a ball of wick-yarn, or the like of that?"
"O-o-oh d-e-a-r! there's the carriage! Now, for one month to come, to
say the least, I shall be made perfectly sick with their billing and
cooing. I shouldn't be surprised if Harry didn't speak to me oftener
than once a day. Had he married a practical woman I wouldn't have
cared--somebody who looked as if God made her for something; but that
little yellow-haired simpleton--umph!"
Poor Ruth, in happy ignorance of the state of her new mother-in-law's
feelings, moved about her apartments in a sort of blissful dream. How
odd it seemed, this new freedom, this being one's own mistress. How
odd to see that shaving-brush and those razors lying on _her_ toilet
table! then that saucy looking smoking-cap, those slippers and that
dressing-gown, those fancy neck-ties, too, and vests and coats, in
unrebuked proximity to her muslins, laces, silks and de laines!
Ruth liked it.