GERTRUDE CHANGES HER NAME
The Club had been prominent figures at Mrs. Schuler's wedding, but that
was a very small affair at home, and Miss Gertrude's was to be in the
church with a reception afterwards at Dorothy's house. The Club felt
that they wanted to do every bit of the work that they could, not only
because they loved Miss Gertrude but because she was going to marry the
brother of two of the Club members. She had said that she would like
to have the church decorated with wild flowers so that she might take
away with her the remembrance of the blossoms that she had seen and
loved in the Rosemont fields.
The Club held a special meeting to talk over their plans for the
wedding. It was at Rose House, for they had become accustomed to
meeting there during the summer, when every moment could be utilized
for work on something connected with the furnishing of the house while
at the same time they could talk as they hammered and measured and
screwed and sewed. They were gathered under the tree where the
squirrel lived. As they established themselves, he was sitting on a
branch above them, twitching his tail and making ready for a descent to
search for cookies in their pockets.
Helen called the meeting to order and told them what Miss Gertrude had
said about the decorations.
"Has any one any suggestions?" she asked.
"Shall we have all the different kinds of flowers we can find or select
one kind?" asked Ethel Brown.
"We can get goldenrod and asters now."
"And cardinals and cat-tails."
"And 'old-maids'."
"And hollyhocks."
"Nobody has said 'Queen Anne's Lace.' I think that's the prettiest of
all," urged Ethel Blue. "Wouldn't it be delicate and fairy-like if we
trimmed the whole church with it!"
"O, Ethel, I see it in a flash!" cried Delia. "Not banked heavily
anywhere, but always in feathery masses."
"On the altar and winding the chancel rail."
"A cluster on the end of each pew."
"Long garlands instead of ribbons to close the ends of the pews."
"An arch about half way up the aisle."
The whole scene grew on them as they talked and they waxed enthusiastic
over the details. They had learned that flowers to be used for
decoration should be picked the day beforehand and placed in water over
night so that the moisture should have time to force itself into the
stalks and to drive away the first wilting. They decided to gather all
the Queen Anne's Lace that they could find in all Rosemont, accepting
the help of all the children who had asked if they might help.
Mrs. Smith was building a new house, and Dorothy and the Ethels had
planted a flower garden on the new lot although the house was not yet
done. They had arranged to have a succession of pink blossoms. For
fear it would not turn out well because they had not been able to have
the soil put in as good condition as they wanted on account of the
disturbed state of the place with workmen constantly crossing, they had
tried another pink garden at Rose House, and the Ethels had planted
still another bed in their own yard.
"Among them all I should think we ought to find enough, if all the
blossoms don't take it into their heads to fall off the very day
before," said Ethel Brown gloomily.
"Don't talk that way!" insisted Ethel Blue. "We'll find lots of pink
flowers and Aunt Louise's drawing-room will look lovely."
"We can put some of the feathery white with it."
"And we must find some soft green somewhere. The coloring of the room
is so delicate that the pink and white effect will be charming," and
Helen leaned back against the tree trunk with a satisfied smile.
"The next point is that Aunt Louise says she'd be very glad if we'd all
assist at the reception just as we do at Mother's teas--handing things
to eat and being nice to people."
They all nodded their understanding of their duties.
"Are all of you girls going to be dressed alike?" asked Tom.
"No, sir. Delia is to be maid of honor. She's to wear the most
delicate shade of pink you can imagine. The Ethels are to have a shade
that is just a wee bit darker, and Margaret and I are to come last--"
"Being the tallest."
"--wearing real rose-colored frocks. It's going to be beautiful."
"I can easily believe it," declared James, making an attempt at a bow
that was defeated by the fact that he was lying on his back and found
the exploit too difficult to achieve. "I also seem to see you flitting
around the house under those pink decorations. You'll run the bride
hard."
"Edward won't think so," laughed Tom. "Now what are we going to give
to Gertrude--"
"Hear him say 'Gertrude'," said Ethel Blue under her breath.
"She asked us to. Of course we call her by her name. She's going to
be our sister."
The Ethels looked quite depressed, for calling Miss Gertrude by her
first name was a privilege they knew they never should have.
"I was inquiring what we're going to give Gertrude as a Club. We
Watkinses are going to give her something as a family, and Delia and I
have each picked out a special present from us ourselves--"
"That's the way we're doing," came from the Mortons.
"--but I think it would be nice to give her something from the whole of
us, because if it hadn't been for the Club and the Club baby she
wouldn't have come here at all."
"Let's put our colossal intellects on it," urged Roger.
"If we could think of something that no one else would give her--"
"And that would remind her of us and the things the Club does."
"The Club makes furniture," laughed Roger, "but I shouldn't suggest
that we repeat our latest triumph and give her a sideboard made of old
boxes."
They all roared, but James came up with a serious expression after a
roll that took him some distance away from his friends.
"Boxes am ree-diculous," he remarked, "but furniture isn't. Isn't
there some piece of furniture that they'd like better than anything
else we could give them?"
"I've got an idea," announced Roger.
"Quick, quick; catch it!" and Tom tossed over his cap to hold any
notions that might trickle away from the main mass.
"Since we've been doing this furniture making for Rose House I've spent
a good deal of time in the carpenter shop on Main Street. You know it
belongs to the son of those old people down by the bridge, Mr. and Mrs.
Atwood."
"The ones we gave a 'show' for?" asked Delia.
"The same people. The son was pleased at our going there and he hasn't
minded my fooling round his place and he's given me a lot of points.
He makes good furniture himself."
"As good as yours?" asked James dryly.
"Go on!" retorted Roger. "He's a real joiner rather than a carpenter,
but there isn't any chance for a joiner in a town like Rosemont, so he
does any kind of carpentering."
"Go ahead, Roger. We don't care for the gentleman's biography."
"Yes, you do; it has some bearing on what I'm going to propose."
"Let her shoot, then."
"Mr. Atwood has a whole heap of splendid mahogany planks in his shop.
I came across them one day and asked him about them. He's been
collecting them a long time and they're splendidly seasoned and he's
just waiting for a chance to make them into something."
"A light begins to break. We'll have him make our present. Are you
sure he'll make it well enough? It's got to be a crackerjack to be
suitable for Miss Gertrude."
"This is what I thought. The doctor and Miss Gertrude both like open
bookcases. I heard them say once they liked to be able to take out a
book without having to bother with a door."
"Me, too," agreed Margaret. "And I never could see the use of a back."
"That's what I say," said Helen. "I'd rather dust the books more
carefully and not have the extra weight added to the bookcase."
"You know the furniture they call 'knockdown'?"
Everybody nodded. They had all become familiar with various makes of
furniture since their attention had been called to the subject by their
summer's interests.
"I think Mr. Atwood can make us a bookcase that will consist of two
upright end pieces with holes through them where each shelf is to go.
The shelves will have two extensions on each end that will go through
these square holes and they will be held in place by wedges driven
through these extensions on the outside of the uprights. Get me?"
They all said they did.
"That's all there is to the bookcase. It can be taken to pieces in ten
minutes and packed flat and shipped from Rosemont to Oklahoma with some
chance of its reaching there unbroken; and it can be set up in another
ten minutes. What do you say?"
There wasn't a dissenting voice, and they were so pleased with the
scheme that they went to Mr. Atwood's that very afternoon, looked at
the wood, talked over the finish, and left the order. It was so simple
that the maker thought that he could have it done before the wedding
and he agreed to take it apart and pack it for shipment so that there
would be no danger of its not making its journey safely.
The wedding day was a trifle too warm, Dorothy thought as she gazed out
early in the morning and considered the flowers that must be set in
place several hours before the time when they were to be seen.
"We must take care not to have them look like those dandelions in the
book wedding that began so joyously and ended all in a wizzle," she
murmured, and she was more than ever glad that they had taken the
precaution to pick them the day before and have them in water.
By early afternoon all was in readiness and the girls were resting.
Miss Gertrude had not been allowed to help but had stayed quietly in
her room.
The wedding was at half past four, and at that hour the little church,
which looked perfectly lovely in the opinion of the decorators, was
pleasantly filled with murmuring groups of Rosemont people, who agreed
that the feathery decorations proved yet another plume in the caps of
the Club members, and of New York people who gazed at the modest
country chapel and found it charming.
There was a happy _brrrr_ of pleasant comment while the organ played
softly. Roger and James were two of the ushers. Friends of Edward's,
young doctors, were the other two.
As the organ broke into the Lohengrin march and Edward, with Tom for
his best man, appeared at the chancel, Gertrude came down the aisle
from the other end of the church. She wore a simple white trailing
dress of soft silk, clasped at the breast with the ancient
brilliant-framed miniature of another Gertrude Merriam. A pearl
pendant, a gift from Ayleesabet, hung from her neck. On her ungloved
right hand the older Gertrude Merriam's ring blazed beside Edward's
more modest offering.
The Ethels held each others' hands as they stood behind the bride,
wreaths of Queen Anne's Lace over their arms, and a delicate blossom or
two tucked under a pale blue ribbon in each filmy white hat. It seemed
but a moment to them and it was all over and Miss Gertrude was no
longer "Miss Gertrude" but "Mrs. Edward." The doctor seemed to have
put on new dignity and the girls found themselves wondering if they
should ever call him "Edward" again.
Gertrude swept by them with her eyes full of happiness, but when she
reached the back of the church she gave a lovely smile to the women and
children of Rose House seated in the last pews.
"I want every one to see my lovely presents," Miss Gertrude had said,
so the guests exclaimed over the pretty things grouped in the library.
It was all simple and happy, and a bit of pathos at the end of the
afternoon brought no depression. Gertrude was just about to go
upstairs to change her dress and she stood with her maids and ushers,
around her, exchanging a laughing word or two with them, when a little
procession made its way toward her from the dining-room. It consisted
of all the women and children from Rose House, dressed in the fresh
clothes which the women had made for themselves and the children during
the summer. They were all so smiling that they could hardly have been
recognized as the forlorn creatures who had come to Rosemont early in
July. Each woman held in her hand a centrepiece, embroidered in the
characteristic work of her country.
Mrs. Vereshchagin led the way, because she could speak English a little
better than the others, but her English failed her when she came face
to face with the bride.
"We love you," she said simply, making a sweeping gesture that included
the bridegroom and all the U. S. C. members who were standing about.
"We give you these embroideries of our lands. We love all of you."
And all the women and children cried in chorus, "We love all of you."