An Uncle and a Wedding
Dimple was up betimes the next morning. Creeping quietly out of bed, she
left Florence sound asleep.
"Mamma," she whispered, softly, as she opened her mamma's door, "what
time is it? Has Uncle Heath come?"
"It is half-past six," said her mamma, "and Uncle Heath will be here in
half an hour."
"May I put on my blue frock?"
"Yes."
Dimple slipped back, and was not long in dressing. Florence sleepily
opened her eyes as Dimple was ready to leave the room.
"Oh Dimple, are you dressed?" she said, sitting up in bed. "Has the bell
rung?"
"No," said Dimple, "but Uncle Heath is coming, you know, and I want to
meet him. Come down when you are ready."
Florence being wide awake by this time, concluded to get up, and Dimple
ran downstairs, patting the baluster with one hand as she went.
When she reached the lowest step she was caught up by a pair of arms,
and found her face close to her Uncle Heath's whiskers.
"Oh! Uncle Heath," she cried, "do let me hug you. I am so glad to see
you. I'm gladder than anybody."
"I hope not," said her father from the doorway.
"Yes, I am," said Dimple, as her uncle carried her into the parlor, and
held her on his knee. "Uncle Heath, are you very happy?"
"Indeed, I am," said he, laughing, as did Dimple's papa and mamma.
"Quite a home thrust," said her papa.
"The reason I asked," she went on, playing with her uncle's watch chain,
"is, that I heard papa say the other day, 'I am so glad for dear old
Heath.'"
"He has reason to be," responded her uncle. "Dimple, how should you like
a new aunt and cousin?"
"Oh, uncle! Is it Rock?"
"Well, not Rock altogether," laughed he. "Rock's mother, as well."
"Please tell me, Uncle Heath."
"So I will, little girl. Rock's mother is going to be your grey-headed
uncle's wife. That makes Rock your cousin, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said Dimple, cuddling up to him, "but you are not grey-headed,
Uncle Heath, only grey-templed," she said, softly patting each side of
his face.
"She seems perfectly satisfied," said he, looking at his brother.
"Perfectly," he answered. "You could not have pleased her better."
"But, Uncle Heath," said Dimple, "I didn't know you knew Mrs. Hardy."
"I knew her long ago, when she wasn't Mrs. Hardy, but Dora West. Long
ago," he repeated, gently stroking her hair.
"Why didn't you marry her then?"
"I wanted to," said he, simply, "but I couldn't. Do you want to be
bridesmaid, Dimple?"
"Oh, uncle! Could I?"
"Yes, indeed; and Rock groomsman. We are such a young, frivolous couple,
we couldn't think of having a grown-up young lady for bridesmaid."
Dimple laughed, and sat in supreme content on her uncle's knee till the
breakfast bell rang.
"Florence, I know all about it," she cried, as Florence came in, "and I
am going to be bridesmaid, and I know why Uncle Heath is happy, and why
Rock can be my cousin. Isn't it lovely?"
Florence looked puzzled, but after a clearer explanation agreed with
Dimple that it was "perfectly lovely."
Rock came over after breakfast, with a message for Mrs. Dallas, and
Dimple ran out to meet him, crying, "Oh, Rock! your papa is here, and
you are going to be my cousin, really and truly. Did you know it?"
"Yes, I knew," said he, "and I'm real glad. Where is Mr. Dallas?"
"My Uncle Heath, or papa?"
"Your Uncle Heath."
"He has gone to see your mamma, I think. And oh, Rock! we are going to
be bridesmaids, you and I. No, I mean I am going to be bridesmaid, and
you groomsman."
"Yes, and something else I know, too," said Rock. "While mamma goes on
her wedding trip I am to come here to stay."
"Oh! Rock," exclaimed Dimple, clapping her hands, "that will be lovely,
too. How long?"
"Three days, I think."
"Won't we have good times?" laughed Dimple, dancing up and down. "Do
come sit down and talk about it. Are you glad you are going to have my
Uncle Heath for your papa?"
"Yes, indeed," said Rock.
"And are you going to live here?"
"No, in Baltimore."
"Oh, dear, that is all that spoils it."
"Never mind," said Rock. "I shouldn't wonder if we were to come here
summers, and I'll tell you, Dimple, maybe your mother will let you come
visit us next winter, and I will take you sleighing."
That comforted Dimple somewhat.
"Where is the wedding to be? I never thought to ask," said she.
"At church, at half-past nine Thursday morning. Then we come back to
your house to breakfast, and mamma and Mr. Dallas go away on the twelve
o'clock train."
"When you say Mr. Dallas I think you mean my papa," said Dimple. "I wish
you would call Uncle Heath papa."
"But he isn't my papa yet."
"Well, three days doesn't make much difference, and you need only say it
to me."
"Well! papa and mamma," said Rock, laughing, "will be back Sunday
evening, and Monday we all go away."
"Don't talk about that part of it. I don't want to think of it."
Here Dimple's mamma called her, and she went upstairs. "Wait till I come
back, Rock," she said, as she went out, "I want to talk some more."
"What do you want with me, mamma?" she asked as she entered her mamma's
room.
"I want to try on your bridesmaid frock."
"Oh, mamma! Is that it?" she exclaimed, as her mamma lifted a soft white
mull from the bed.
"Yes, and you are to wear a white hat and carry a basket of flowers.
Isn't it odd that my little daughter should be bridesmaid for some one
who was once her mamma's bridesmaid, and who used to play with her when
she was a little girl?"
Dimple laughed at the idea, as she put her arms through the arm-holes,
and said, "It is all so funny, mamma, that I can't straighten it out at
all. It is like a fairy tale, and, O! mamma, I look like a fairy in this
frock. Isn't it lovely? I wish I might go down and show it to Rock and
Florence."
"Very well, you may, only be very careful not to catch it on anything."
"I will be, mamma," and she danced off to display her finery.
"See, Rock! See, Florence! Don't I look almost like a fairy?" she
exclaimed, as she went into the library, where they both were sitting,
each in a big chair.
"Oh! you do look sweet!" they said, and Dimple smiled and blushed at the
praise, quite delighted with herself; but presently she looked at
Florence a little gravely, and said:
"Florence, I feel so selfish. Do you care very much that I am to be a
bridesmaid, and you not?"
"No, indeed, for I am to be bridesmaid when my sister is married,
anyhow, and I would so much rather see it all than to be right in it."
So Dimple went up to take off her frock quite reassured.
"Mamma, what are you going to wear? White, too?" she asked.
"No, grey, with pink roses; and Mrs. Hardy will wear pale lavender and
white roses."
"I thought brides always wore white."
"Not always," answered her mamma.
Long before half-past nine on the eventful morning Dimple stood ready,
slippers, hat and all; her basket of flowers tied with white ribbons on
the piano; and she felt very grand, indeed, when the carriage, with Rock
in it, drove around for her. She had been up by daybreak, around to the
church with flowers, upstairs to see that her bridesmaid toilet was all
right, down into the kitchen to ask Sylvy for a peep at the wedding
cake, which, black with fruit inside and white with frosting out, stood
on the sideboard.
Then there was the table to see, and little helpful things to do for her
mamma, while she arranged it; flowers to gather, a great bowl of fresh
roses in the centre.
Then it was such a delight, after she and Florence were dressed, to
watch her mamma get ready; to see her dainty laces, and hold her
flowers ready for her to pin on.
At last the great moment really arrived, and she found herself stepping
up the aisle with Rock, feeling a little embarrassment, though it was a
very quiet wedding, only a few near friends being present; but she bore
herself very bravely, holding her flower basket very tightly, and
keeping time with her slippered feet to the wedding march.
She did not dare even to look at Rock, but kept her eyes steadfastly
cast down.
She and Rock were the first to get back to the house, and when the new
Mrs. Dallas reached there, Dimple rushed up to her and gave her a
frantic hug, calling her "dear Aunt Dora;" then as frantic a hug was
bestowed upon her uncle.
She danced through the rooms like a will-o'-the-wisp, hardly willing to
sit at the table long enough to eat anything at all.
When the bridal pair drove away to the depot, a shower of rice and old
shoes were flung after them by all the children, Bubbles included.
After the house was quiet again, Dimple, Florence and Rock sat talking
it all over in the parlor.
"Were you frightened when you walked up the aisle?" asked Florence.
"A little; but I thought about looking at my slippers, and didn't see
the people. Did I look all right?"
"Yes; as lovely as possible, and I never should have thought you were
frightened. What did you do with the flowers? And, oh Dimple, who had
the lovely little figure on top of the cake?"
"I know," said Rock. "I heard mamma tell Dimple's mother that the
bridesmaid ought to have that; and I think so, too."
"Oh!" said Dimple. "I think you ought to have it, Rock."
"No, indeed. That would be a fine way to do, I must say. It is to be
yours. Mamma said so, and that settles it."
"Well," said Dimple. "But I have so much, it seems to me. Florence,
isn't it funny for Rock to have a new papa? Everything turns out so
oddly. Don't you know how provoked we were that day when Bubbles told us
that mamma was bringing a boy out to see us?"
"And now that boy is your cousin," said Rock.
"Yes; and I am glad, too," replied Dimple, giving his hand a little
affectionate pat. "I never knew boys could be so nice, till I saw you."
Rock laughed. "That's a pretty big compliment," he said.
"It isn't a compliment; it's the truth."
"And a compliment can't be the truth, I suppose?"
"Why, I don't know. Can it?"
"Of course; though just flattering words aren't always the truth. I've
heard ladies who came to see mamma say, 'What a sweet child your little
one is!'" Rock said this very affectedly, and the girls laughed. "And
you know," Rock went on, "they didn't know a thing about me; they just
said it to make mamma feel pleased, and that's what I call flattery."
"Oh, yes; I think I see," said Dimple.
The three days that followed were very merry ones for the children. They
frolicked from morning till night, and did more wonderful things than
ever they had dreamed of doing before.
Rock was the nicest sort of comrade, and they got along without any
fusses whatever. Sunday was their last day together, for Florence was
to go the next day, too, under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Heath Dallas,
and her trunk was standing, packed, ready to be sent.
"Won't we have a pew full this morning?" said Dimple, at the breakfast
table. "Five people. Rock, you must sit between Florence and me. I can
sit next to mamma, and Florence next to papa."
"Oh, no; let me sit by auntie," said Florence.
"Very well," said Dimple. "I can sit by papa just as well, and if I get
sleepy I can tumble over on him."
Papa laughed and said it was a pleasant prospect for him.
The church windows were open, a soft breeze fluttered the leaves outside
and the slow rustle of fans fluttered bonnet strings inside.
Dimple leaned her head back against the pew, and looked out at the white
clouds drifting across the sky, so dreamily and softly; she heard the
birds singing in the trees, and now and then came back to a
consciousness of the minister's voice, and she caught a sentence here
and there; but she could not fix her attention on the sermon at all; she
was thinking of the dreaded to-morrow that would take her playmates
away from her. The quiet and solemnity of the place only added to the
sadness of her thoughts, and as the last hymn was being sung, the tears
gathered in her eyes and dropped silently down on her book.
Finally she could stand it no longer, but slipped down on her knees,
buried her face in the cushions, and fairly sobbed.
No one knew what was the matter, and Mrs. Dallas looked distressed,
fearing she was ill. Mr. Dallas leaned down toward her, and whispered,
"Are you ill, Dimple?"
But she shook her head, and when the hymn was ended, he drew her close
to him, and put his arm around her, while she kept her face hidden on
his shoulder.
No one could tell what ailed her, as every question only brought a fresh
burst of tears, and she walked home in silence.
It was not until they were in the house, that she could tell what
affected her.
Then her mother took her on her lap, and she had her cry out there,
while Florence and Rock, looking much concerned, stood by.
"Tell me, daughter, what ails you," her mother said, pushing back the
curls from the little tear-stained face.
"It was so solemn--and--I was thinking about everybody's going away
to-morrow," she said, between her sobs. "Then they sang--'Where friend
holds fellowship with friend. Though sundered far'--and all that--and I
couldn't stand it any longer," and the tears still rained down her face.
At this Florence's eyes filled up, and she put her arms around Dimple,
and they cried together, while it took Mrs. Dallas, Rock, and Mr.
Dallas, all three, to comfort them.
"You will soon be going to school, Dimple," said her papa, "and then you
will have ever so many playmates."
"And you are coming to see us next winter," said Rock.
"And you will have mamma left, anyhow," said her mother, hugging her up
close.
So among them all, the tears were dried; and before dinner was over,
they were all laughing as joyously as ever.
The only excitement left was to watch for the arrival of Rock's papa
and mamma, who were to come that evening.
In the meantime, while Rock and Florence were reading, Dimple heard
Bubbles her Sunday lesson. She always taught her one of the hymns she
had herself learned, and a Bible verse or two.
Bubbles was not very quick at learning the verses, but delighted in the
hymns, and sang them with Dimple, with great vigor.
This afternoon, however, it was quite wearisome to Dimple, for her cry
had given her a headache, and she cut the lesson very short so as to get
back to Rock and Florence.
"I shouldn't like to be a teacher," she said, throwing herself down on
the lounge.
"I should," said Florence. "I love my teacher at school dearly; she is
the sweetest, dearest thing, we girls almost fight over her."
"Do you? How funny," said Dimple.
"Why, yes, we take her flowers, and candy, and big apples and oranges;
sometimes her desk is full."
"I am afraid I shan't like my teacher," said Dimple.
"Do you know her?"
"Yes, a little; she has been here to tea. She isn't so awful, and I
should like her, perhaps, if I didn't know I had to go to school to
her."
"Do you know many of the girls?"
"One or two. You saw that girl who sat in front of us at church, she is
one."
"You will get used to it real soon," said Rock. "I felt just as you do
before I went to school, and it is worse for a boy; the other boys just
go for him, and I had a hard time for the first few weeks, but now I
like it first-rate."
"It is the getting used to it, that I dread," sighed Dimple; "that has
to come first."
"No," said Rock, "papa and mamma come first, and it is nearly time for
them now; let's go on the front porch and watch."
"It is so sunny there," said Dimple.
"Not if we sit at the end. Come on."
So they went out and took up positions at the end of the porch.
"I want to see mamma and Gertrude, and all, awfully," said Florence,
"but, indeed I hate to leave here," looking around. "I shall miss the
trees, and flowers, and all the sweet things."
"So shall I," said Rock. "What a good time we have had this summer."
"Yes. Haven't we?" said Dimple, looking sober.
"Don't talk about it any more," said Rock. "It makes my Cousin Eleanor
feel bad."
This made Dimple smile, and presently they saw coming up the street a
carriage, which they felt sure would stop.
They all ran down to the gate, and the carriage did draw up by the
sidewalk, and Rock was the first to open the door of it, and in another
minute was in his mother's arms.
Then they all went into the house, and made ready for tea.
All that evening Dimple sat with one arm around Florence; and, although
Rock was so glad to see his mother, he said that he would have Dimple so
short a time that he must sit by her, and the three children sat on the
steps, Rock holding Dimple's hand and trying his best to cheer her up.
But a more doleful face than appeared at the breakfast table could not
be found.
"You must get your Aunt Dora and Florence some nice flowers to take
with them," said Mrs. Dallas to Dimple.
"My Aunt Dora! How queer that is, mamma. I have been wondering, is he
Rock Hardy or Rock Dallas?"
"He is Rock Hardy."
"I never will get it straight," she said, as she went to get the
flowers.
"Uncle Heath," she said, after she had laid the flowers in damp cotton,
and put them in boxes, "you may be very happy, but I am not, and I wish
you'd leave Rock with me."
He smiled as he looked down at her, and said, "I can't, dear child, but
you shall see him often. Baltimore is not very far away."
"Well, I am much obliged to you for making a cousin of him," she said,
as she turned away.
"Poor little girl," said he to her mother, "she takes this parting very
much to heart."
"Yes," said her mother, "she has never had any very intimate friends,
and her cousins have never paid her as long a visit as Florence has this
time. As for Rock, he is the only boy she has ever liked at all, and he
is a nice boy. You have quite a model son, Heath."
"Yes, I think so too," said he.
At last the trunks were all off, Celestine was dressed in her traveling
frock, a grey veil on her hat; the children thought her very stylish.
"Poor Rubina!" sighed Dimple, bravely trying to keep back the tears.
Rock had volunteered to take charge of the two kittens, so Jet and
Marble were mewing in a basket.
"And poor little Nyxy, you will be lonely too," said Dimple, hiding her
face in his furry coat.
"You will be sure to write to us, won't you Dimple," said Florence, "and
tell all about school, and everything."
"I will," said Dimple, choking up.
"Don't cry," said both Rock and Florence, coaxingly.
"No, I will not, I made up my mind not to, because mamma might think I
didn't love her," answered Dimple, while her tears slowly trickled down
her cheeks.
At last all was ready,--doll, kittens, and boxes, and the good-byes were
said. Bubbles and Dimple at the gate waved handkerchiefs as long as they
could see the carriage.
Then Dimple turned slowly into the house, unable to keep back the
torrent of tears, and after she went into the library she buried her
face in the sofa pillow, sobbing aloud; then she felt a pair of arms
clasp her knees and saw two tearful black eyes looking up into her face,
while Bubbles' caressing voice said, "Never min', Miss Dimple, I'se
hyah."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
MOTOR CYCLE SERIES
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exciting times for the Motor Rangers--yet there is a strong flavor of
fun and freedom, with a typical Western mountaineer for spice.
THE MOTOR RANGERS ON BLUE WATER; or, The Secret of the Derelict.
The strange adventures of the sturdy craft "Nomad" and the stranger
experiences of the Rangers themselves with Morello's schooner and a
mysterious derelict form the basis of this well-spun yarn of the sea.
THE MOTOR RANGERS' CLOUD CRUISER.
From the "Nomad" to the "Discoverer," from the sea to the sky, the scene
changes in which the Motor Rangers figure. They have experiences "that
never were on land or sea," in heat and cold and storm, over mountain
peak and lost city, with savages and reptiles; their ship of the air is
attacked by huge birds of the air; they survive explosion and
earthquake; they even live to tell the tale!
Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price.
HURST & COMPANY--Publishers--NEW YORK
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DREADNOUGHT BOYS SERIES
Tales of the New Navy
By CAPT. WILBUR LAWTON
Author of "BOY AVIATORS SERIES."
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c. per vol., postpaid
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON BATTLE PRACTICE.
Especially interesting and timely is this book which introduces the
reader with its heroes, Ned and Herc, to the great ships of modern
warfare and to the intimate life and surprising adventures of Uncle
Sam's sailors.
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ABOARD A DESTROYER.
In this story real dangers threaten and the boys' patriotism is tested
in a peculiar international tangle. The scene is laid on the South
American coast.
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON A SUBMARINE.
To the inventive genius--trade-school boy or mechanic--this story has
special charm, perhaps, but to every reader its mystery and clever
action are fascinating.
THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS ON AERO SERVICE.
Among the volunteers accepted for Aero Service are Ned and Herc. Their
perilous adventures are not confined to the air, however, although they
make daring and notable flights in the name of the Government; nor are
they always able to fly beyond the reach of their old "enemies," who are
also airmen.
Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price.
HURST & COMPANY--Publishers--NEW YORK
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FRANK ARMSTRONG SERIES
Twentieth Century Athletic Stories
By MATHEW M. COLTON.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per vol., postpaid
FRANK ARMSTRONG'S VACATION.
How Frank's summer experience with his boy friends make him into a
sturdy young athlete through swimming, boating, and baseball contests,
and a tramp through the Everglades, is the subject of this splendid
story.
FRANK ARMSTRONG AT QUEENS.
We find among the jolly boys at Queen's School, Frank, the
student-athlete, Jimmy, the baseball enthusiast, and Lewis, the
unconsciously-funny youth who furnishes comedy for every page that bears
his name. Fall and winter sports between intensely rival school teams
are expertly described.
FRANK ARMSTRONG'S SECOND TERM.
The gymnasium, the track and the field make the background for the
stirring events of this volume, in which David, Jimmy, Lewis, the "Wee
One" and the "Codfish" figure, while Frank "saves the day."
FRANK ARMSTRONG, DROP KICKER.
With the same persistent determination that won him success in swimming,
running and baseball playing, Frank Armstrong acquired the art of "drop
kicking," and the Queen's football team profits thereby.
Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price.
HURST & COMPANY--Publishers--NEW YORK
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OAKDALE ACADEMY SERIES
Stories of Modern School Sports
By MORGAN SCOTT.
Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per vol., postpaid
BEN STONE AT OAKDALE.
Under peculiarly trying circumstances Ben Stone wins his way at Oakdale
Academy, and at the same time enlists our sympathy, interest and
respect. Through the enmity of Bern Hayden, the loyalty of Roger Eliot
and the clever work of the "Sleuth," Ben is falsely accused, championed
and vindicated.
BOYS OF OAKDALE ACADEMY.
"One thing I will claim, and that is that all Grants fight open and
square and there never was a sneak among them." It was Rodney Grant, of
Texas, who made the claim to his friend, Ben Stone, and this story shows
how he proved the truth of this statement in the face of apparent
evidence to the contrary.
RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE.
Baseball is the main theme of this interesting narrative, and that means
not only clear and clever descriptions of thrilling games, but an
intimate acquaintance with the members of the teams who played them. The
Oakdale Boys were ambitious and loyal, and some were even disgruntled
and jealous, but earnest, persistent work won out.
OAKDALE BOYS IN CAMP.
The typical vacation is the one that means much freedom, little
restriction, and immediate contact with "all outdoors." These conditions
prevailed in the summer camp of the Oakdale Boys and made it a scene of
lively interest.
THE GREAT OAKDALE MYSTERY.
The "Sleuth" scents a mystery! He "follows his nose." The plot thickens!
He makes deductions. There are surprises for the reader--and for the
"Sleuth," as well.
NEW BOYS AT OAKDALE.
A new element creeps into Oakdale with another year's registration of
students. The old and the new standards of conduct in and out of school
meet, battle, and cause sweeping changes in the lives of several of the
boys.
Any volume sent postpaid upon receipt of price.
HURST & COMPANY--Publishers--NEW YORK