MISS JANE'S WEDDING
If Daddy's office nurse hadn't called and said that he had an emergency
case there is no telling when the Birthday dinner party would have
ended. Even as the telephone rang and Cissy drawled, "Doctah's
residence," Daddy glanced guiltily at his wrist watch and stood up.
"Tell Miss Gould I'm on my way, Cissy," and that quick Daddy was gone.
Mimi was off too, but out the back door, not the front. She stopped at
the buffet on the way out taking an apple out of the fruit bowl.
"Surely, child, you can't eat anything else."
"No ma'am, it's for King--I'm going out to see him."
"King isn't here, Mimi--he's at the veterinarian's."
"What for? Is he sick?"
"Nothing at all. Dr. Kirby wants a friend to see him. Daddy will
explain."
"Dr. Kirby isn't trying to sell King, is he, Mother?"
In the instant Mother hesitated, Mimi knew.
"That's entirely up to you and Daddy."
"Oh," said Mimi going on out the door toward the stable. She had no
word for Von who trotted at her heels, only a pat on the head. Together
they stood before the empty stall; Mimi leaning against the rail, Von
pressing against her knees. No proud head nuzzling against her
shoulder, no welcoming neigh, no pawing. Daddy wouldn't sell King
without asking her; Mimi knew that, but King was a valuable horse and
Daddy might need the money to go to Germany. He couldn't take the horse
with him. She couldn't take him to Sheridan--or could she? Boarding
horses out a whole winter was dreadfully expensive. They'd have to do
something with King. Wrapped in her calculations and nibbling at the
apple intended for her pet, she wandered back toward the house and
upstairs to her room.
There was very little breeze. The scent of honeysuckle was heavy. She
was full and tired and had no inclination whatever to open her duffle
bag and begin putting things in place.
"No wonder, I'm sleepy. It's quiet hour by camp time." So saying she
skinned her linen dress off over her head, kicked off her sandals,
stretched out on her own bed and in two winks and no blinks was sound
asleep.
Two hours later when Mother opened the door, Mimi opened her eyes but
she did not get up. She rolled over on her stomach, doubled her knees
up and propped her head in her hands.
"Could you stand another big surprise today?" Mother asked, handing
Mimi the afternoon paper. The paper was turned inside out putting the
Society Page on the outside.
"There," Mother added, putting her finger on an item.
Mimi was too sleepy to hurry. She had to shift her position to hold the
paper and as she moved leisurely she said to her mother:
"I suppose it says the charming and 'onliest' daughter of Dr. and Mrs.
James Sherwood Hammond has returned from an extended vacation at Camp
Mammoth Cave"--a big yawn--"and that her parents were tardy at the
train?"
"Hurry, Mimi. This is important."
Mother, who usually had all the calmness and poise a doctor's wife soon
acquires, was weaving her hands like Zasu Pitts before Mimi focused her
blue eyes on the column.
"Mrs. Josephine Herold announces the engagement and approaching
marriage of her daughter, Alicia Jane, to Mr. Dick Donnell. The wedding
will be an event of early autumn."
"Umph! That's no surprise to me. I've known it all day long--for sure,"
said Mimi superiorly. "Why, we even planned Miss Jane's wedding for her
on the train this morning coming home."
"And what are her plans?"
"Well, I don't know exactly," Mimi had to admit, "but we're going to be
in the wedding--all five of us who were in Miss Jane's hut at camp, and
Miss Millie, too. We told her we were."
"And where will the wedding be?"
"Oh, Mother," laughed Mimi, "you sound just like that silly old nursery
rhyme about 'Mr. Frog went a courtin' and he did ride, umphum' saying
'where shall the wedding supper be?' and if I answer like the rhyme,
'way down yonder in a hollow tree,' that could be true for all I know.
I don't care where it is just so I'm in it."
"A church wedding would be frightfully expensive for Mrs. Herold, I
fear; and since Mr. Herold passed away and Mrs. Herold had the house
made into two apartments, their present living quarters are rather
crowded. I wonder----"
Mimi did not know what Mother wondered until they were dressed for the
afternoon and had driven over to Miss Jane's. Mimi had wanted to go by
the tennis court for two reasons; to show off her improved game and to
see Honky and return his tennis racquet he had let her take to camp.
The way things turned out she was glad she went with Mother Dear
because now she was in on the ground floor of all the lovely plans.
Mrs. Herold, Miss Jane, Mimi (who sat near the open door to wave hello
in case any of her friends passed), and Mrs. Hammond were no sooner
seated than Mrs. Hammond, with that charming directness of hers, came
to the point.
"Jane, my dear, Dr. Hammond and I are so grateful to you for the
splendid care you took of Mimi at camp that I want you to let me do
something for you. You see, your mother and Dr. Hammond's Aunt Gay were
in Sheridan together and that almost makes us kin." Mother was laughing
and being her most winsome. Mimi had turned from the open door and was
watching her Mother and listening intently. "What I am trying to say,
my dear, is, won't you and Dick marry at our house? It is so perfectly
suited to a simple home wedding, the stairs, the living room, reception
hall and dining room arranged as they are."
"Why, Mrs. Hammond, I don't know what to say. I never heard of anything
so wonderful! I love your house! I've been in and out there all my life
and feel it's partly my home, too. What do you think, Mother?" she
asked turning to Mrs. Herold.
"Jane," little Mrs. Herold had tears of happiness in her eyes, "it's
your wedding and have it as you please. It could be a beautiful wedding
there--the white columns and the floor plan. It always has reminded me
of the big house down on the plantation where your father and I were
wed." Her voice had trailed away to a soft whisper.
Jane rose from her chair and sat on the needle point stool at her
Mother's feet and leaned her head against her Mother's knees.
"I'll have to speak to Dick, Mrs. Hammond."
"Only one thing I must add, Jane. We are closing our house the middle
of September. The doctor has definitely decided to go to Leipzig. I
have to get Mimi ready for Sheridan. If you could move the date up two
or three weeks, say to the first week of September, we could manage
beautifully."
Everyone listening knew Mother Dear could do just that, manage
beautifully.
That is how it happened that when twilight, September the seventh,
came, all the streets for three blocks around the Hammond house were
blocked with cars. The driveway was kept open and cars were rolling up
to the porte-cochere to deposit wedding guests, circling the back
flower bed and moving out again. Well dressed ladies in dainty summer
frocks, gay young things, well groomed gentlemen were strolling up the
front walk and lingering in the cool shadows on the veranda until the
music invited them in.
Inside the house there was more commotion and excitement than on the
outside--florist helpers, caterers, two dressmaker's helpers, who were
serving as maids, were putting last touches here and there. No one was
more important than Cissy. Even in the years to come when her own Mimi
would be a regal bride trailing down the steps of this same old house
where Mammy had already seen two generations of joy and sorrow, she
would not be busier. There was, first of all, the caterer from
Louisville who was "acting Frenchy and puttin' on airs" and "bein' an
abomination" to Mammy's soul. Yellow Fanny, who had helped Mammy on
special occasions before, was as nervous as a cat. The yard boy was
dressed up in a fresh white coat opening car doors and the front screen
door and at every possible chance slipping back to the kitchen window
to tell those in the rear of the house what was going on out front.
Fanny couldn't stay far from the window, and Mammy herself, as eager as
any one not to miss anything, would listen intently and then declare
she couldn't do anything with "so many distractions." But she had done
a great deal. The furniture was pushed back in the dining room to make
room for the guests. There was a pile of white napkins on the buffet,
but every available inch in the kitchen was stacked with plates and
there were rows and rows of tall thin glasses waiting to be filled.
Tiny rolled sandwiches, what looked to Mimi like a tubful of chicken
salad, beaten biscuits--and most wonderful of all, the wedding cake,
tiers and tiers of cake with a miniature bride and groom on top. The
caterer knew it was a work of art but it was Mammy in her new black
uniform and crisp white organdy apron and cap who, after the ceremony,
would carry it in with candles flickering, place it in the center of
the table and hand Miss Jane the silver cake server.
There was a green bank of luxurious ferns before the living room
fireplace forming an altar. Even now, the florist's helper was lighting
the tall cathedral candles on either side. The white satin stool for
the bride and groom to kneel on was placed just so. There was a
profusion of cut flowers everywhere. The delicately turned bannister
was wound with southern smilax and a big white satin bow crowned the
newel post. Downstairs all was in readiness.
Upstairs there was an orderly confusion. Mother Dear seemed
everywhere--keeping order where chaos might so easily reign. She was
the puppeteer behind the scene pulling the central strings making the
wedding party act. There had been so many things.
Miss Jane had been ducky about having a rainbow wedding. Nothing else
would satisfy her five little campers, who were now her junior (and
only) bridesmaids. She had chosen palest yellow for her gown palest
yellow highlighting the deep waves in her golden amber hair and
striking little sparks of fire in her deep grey eyes. She had let her
hair grow longer since camp and it curled softly to her face. Her
gorgeous sheaf of sunburst roses added the perfect finishing touch to
the picture of a beautiful bride.
Miss Millie had been more fun at rehearsals than all the rest together.
She always amused Mimi and since camp Mimi knew she would never be able
to be around Miss Millie long without being happy and gay. Miss Millie
was not pretty, but in her sweeping green dress she made a very dashing
maid of honor. To Mother Dear's great relief she had arrived with Miss
Jane fully gowned and been smuggled up the back way--one less to dress
upstairs.
The trouble lay with the five, and had from the beginning. Even before
the color-of-dresses-difficulty arose, there was this matter of not
being able to divide five into pairs, and bridesmaids must saunter down
the stairs two and two. Mimi was positive any deviation would ruin the
whole wedding! Perhaps because she was in the habit now of taking
charge of the five, or maybe it was to keep unpleasantness out of
anything connected with her wedding; at any rate, Miss Jane settled the
first dispute most tactfully.
"But Sue," she had said and Sue, flattered, had heeded, "Sue dear I
wanted you to _play_ at my wedding--I must have a violin and I had
pictured you in a blue bouffant organdy dress with your violin under
your chin, playing and facing me as I came into the living room. My
knees may be a bit wobbly by the time I get my long dress down the
stairs--if I get that far without tripping--and I'll need to see you
playing, 'Here comes the bride, here comes the bride!'"
Who could resist Miss Jane? Not Sue----
Then Jean, who had been superior at camp because
she-had-been-to-camp-before, was meek and agreeable because this was
her first time to be in a wedding--the first time for them all--at
least the first grown up time. Margie had been a flower girl once but
she was such a baby then that didn't count. She and Jean had thrilled
over pink for their frocks and they were to come down first. That
coming down _first_ had been another matter. Dottie had to be convinced
(she with the logical mind and the determined-to-do-or-die disposition)
that she and Mimi should be second because they were taller--start with
the short girls and work up to the tallest. If only Miss Jane were
taller than Miss Millie it would be perfect, but she wasn't. At this
point Mother Dear had mentioned orchid dresses and peace prevailed
again.
Now the dark days of running to the dressmakers for fittings, and
trying to stand still and not to yell when a pin stuck, were over. Even
the satin pumps, which, to be alike, had had to be bought white and
dyed, had turned out successfully. Only getting the dresses on and the
pumps on remained.
At the moment Mimi's arms were stretched high over her head, her hair
was caught on something or other, and she was wriggling and Mother was
tugging trying to get the orchid dress over her head and down without
messing up her hair.
"There, we must hurry," said Mother giving the final jerk as Mimi's
head popped in view again.
"If I can balance on these heels and don't fall--why, oh why, didn't
Mr. Zeigler finish them in time for me to practice wearing high
heels--oh, Mother if----"
And then she saw herself in the full length mirror of the closet door.
"Oh," was all she could gasp at her radiant image.
"Sue, ready for you," called Mrs. Herold gently--"Reverend McKenzie is
here and we're about ready. You girls look so fresh and sweet." Mrs.
Herold looked sweet herself.
"Thank you," from all five. They had brought the ensemble idea home
from camp--when one spoke all spoke.
"Now, run along, Sue--careful----"
Sue met the pianist and soloist in the upstairs hall and the three
quietly moved downstairs.
A--A--A--squeak, squeak, E--E--E--A--D--G--plink, plink.
The four girls giggled as they heard Sue tuning her violin. Dottie put
her fingers in her ears and grimaced.
At the first strain of Cadman's "At Dawning" every trace of grin
disappeared. A strange quiet pervaded the whole house. Voices hushed to
a whisper, then died altogether. Fans ceased fluttering--"When the dawn
flames in the sky, I love you--" The whole assembly had caught its
breath in a lover's knot.
The bridal party assembled in the hall--all but Miss Jane. Her door was
still closed. The minister, Dick and his best man had remained
downstairs They were to enter from the dining room and Dick would meet
Miss Jane at the foot of the stairs and give her his arm.
Mimi gripped Dot's arm.
"Oh, my gosh, I forgot something," she gasped in a stage whisper.
Leaving Dot to remark, "You would" to thin air, Mimi caught her full
long skirt up around her and ran on tiptoes into her room.
Bang went the cedar chest top against the window sill. Out came two
boxes to be dumped in vain in the middle of the floor. Desperately Mimi
grabbed up her camp count book and holding it by the backs shook the
pages till they rustled against each other.
"I must find it--I must!" she repeated. She was beginning to despair
when a downy blue feather fell out. Clutching it firmly between her
thumb and forefinger, Mimi headed for Miss Jane's door.
"Miss Jane, Miss Jane," she whispered tensely, turning the door knob as
she spoke--"I have something for you--you have to have it, please."
"Come in," Miss Jane invited as Mimi slipped through the door--"What in
the world?"
Mimi held out the feather.
"Here, Miss Jane. Stick this on you somewhere for luck. It's a blue
bird feather I brought from camp."
"Luck?"
Miss Jane smiled as if Dick were the only luck she ever needed to be
happy, but while Mimi explained she stuck the tiny feather under the
ribbon of her corsage.
"Yes. Every bride must wear:
'Something old, something new,
Something borrowed, something blue.'
And you see Miss Jane, that's all of them. Oh, there goes the music----"
Before she finished talking, Jean and Margie had started. As soon as
they turned the landing, Dottie and Mimi fell in to the measured step.
Holding their bouquets tightly against them and counting, listening
carefully for the accent of the music and--trying to go slowly--the
bridesmaids descended to the living room. Their tiny high heels made
prints on the soft satin laid over the carpet. Everything inside Mimi
was singing with Sue's violin and the piano. Again her magic trail of
beauty stretched out before her. When the final triumphant cords
sounded and Miss Jane paused for one moment at the head of the stairs
Mimi almost ceased to breathe. It was all too perfectly thrilling. Her
Miss Jane could have stepped out of fairyland.
The ceremony, the reception and going away were events of a dream to
Mimi. She moved here and there and yet had no part in it. She kissed
the groom. She shrieked with glee when she bit down on the ring in her
piece of wedding cake. She hugged Miss Millie with the rest as Millie's
long arms caught Miss Jane's bouquet which she tossed over the stairs
when she ran up to put on her going away ensemble. She threw rice and
rice and rice. Then all too soon it was over and the last car was
disappearing down the driveway.
Mother and Daddy stood on the steps waving. Mimi was between them a
step below. She could not see the long look they gave each other over
her head which meant that some day, not so very many years away, their
own daughter would be going down the same driveway, a bride.