"Set there and cry; it's so sensible; and I 'ain't said that a June
weddin' wouldn't be a little nicer. But what you goin' to live on? Joe
can't git his money that soon."
"He--said he thought he could manage. But I won't be married at all if I
can't have it--right."
"Well, you can have it right. All is, there are some folks in this town
that if they don't calculate doin' real well by you, I don't feel called
upon to invite."
"I don't know what you mean," sobbed the girl. She sat by the kitchen
table, her face hidden in her arms. Her mother stood looking at her
tenderly, and yet with a certain anger.
"I mean about the presents. You've worked in the church, you've sung in
the choir for years, and now it's a chance for folks to show that they
appreciate it, and without they're goin' to--Boxes of cake would be
plenty if they wa'n't goin' to serve you any better than they did Ella
Plummet."
Esther Robinson lifted her head. She was quite large, in a soft young
way, and her skin was as pure as a baby's. "But you can't know
beforehand how they're going to treat me!"
"Yes, I can know beforehand, too, and if you're set on next month, it's
none too soon to be seein' about it. I've a good mind to step over to
Mis' Lawrence's and Mis' Stetson's this afternoon."
"Mother! You--wouldn't ask 'em anything?"
Mrs. Robinson hung away her dishtowel; then she faced Esther. "Of course
I wouldn't _ask_ 'em; there's other ways of findin' out besides
_asking_. I'd bring the subject round by saying I hoped there wouldn't
be many duplicates, and I'd git out of 'em what they intended givin'
without seemin' to." Esther looked at her mother with a sort of
fascination. "Then we could give some idea about the refreshments; for I
ain't a-goin' to have no elaborate layout without I _do_ know; and it
ain't because I grudge the money, either," she added, in swift
self-defence.
Mrs. Robinson was a good manager of the moderate means her husband had
left her, but she was not parsimonious or inhospitable. Now she was
actuated by a fierce maternal jealousy. Esther, despite her pleasant
ways and her helpfulness, was often overlooked in a social way. This was
due to her mother. The more pretentious laughed about Mrs. Robinson, and
though the thrifty, contented housewife never missed the amenities which
might have been extended to her, she was keenly alive to any slights put
upon her daughter. And so it was now.
Mrs. Lawrence, a rich, childless old lady, lived next door, and about
four o'clock she went over there. The girl watched her departure
doubtfully, but the possibility of not having a large wedding kept her
from giving a full expression to her feelings.
Esther had always dreamed of her wedding; she had looked forward to it
just as definitely before she met Joe Elsworth as after her engagement
to him. There would be flowers and guests and feasting, and she would be
the centre of it all in a white dress and veil.
She had never thought about there being any presents. Now for the first
time she thought of them as an added glory, but her imagination did not
extend to the separate articles or to their givers. Esther never
pictured her uncle Jonas at the wedding, yet he would surely be in
attendance in his rough farmer clothes, his grizzled, keen old face
towering above the other guests. She did not picture her friends as she
really knew them; the young men would be fine gentlemen, and the girls
ladies in wonderful toilets. As for herself and Joe, hidden away in a
bureau drawer Esther had a poster of one of Frohman's plays. It
represented a bride and groom standing together in a drift of orange
blossoms.
Mrs. Robinson did not return at supper-time, and Esther ate alone. At
eight o'clock Joe Elsworth came. She met him at the door, and they
kissed in the entry. Then Joe preceded her in, and hung up his cap on a
projecting knob of the what-not--that was where he always put it. He
glanced into the dining-room and took in the waiting table.
"Haven't you had supper yet!"
"Mother isn't home."
He came towards her swiftly; his eyes shone with a sudden elated
tenderness. She raised her arms and turned away her face, but he swept
aside the ineffectual barrier. When he let her go she seated herself on
the farther side of the room. Her glance was full of a soft rebuke. He
met it, then looked down smilingly and awkwardly at his shoes.
"Where did you say your ma had gone?"
"She's gone to Mis' Lawrence's, and a few other places."
"Oh, calling. Old Mis' Norton goes about twice a year, and I ask her
what it amounts to."
"I guess you'll find ma's calls'll amount to something."
"How's that?" he demanded.
"She's--going to try and find out what they intend giving."
"What they intend giving?"
"Yes. And without they intend giving something worth while, she says she
won't invite 'em, and maybe we won't have a big wedding at all," she
finished, pathetically.
Joe did not answer. Esther stole an appealing glance at him.
"Does it seem a queer thing to do?"
"Well, yes, rather."