“There’s Blanche now!” exclaimed Dorothy at the breakfast table the next
morning, as she filled her uncle’s coffee cup for the second time. “Ah,
Blanche,” as the door opened and the young girl walked in, “you are good
in obeying orders, and I’m glad to see you.”
“As we all are,” said her uncle. “Come, take a seat here by my side and
have a cup of coffee.”
“Thank you, sir, I have been to breakfast,” she said, taking the
indicated seat and exchanging a morning salutation with her Cousins
George and William. “And oh, uncle, I want to thank you for the lovely
lace you have given me, and the beautiful dress. I know it’s beautiful,
though I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing it yet.”
“Well, you shall have that pleasure presently, when we are all done with
breakfast,” he said. “I am glad you like my gift, but I expect some
return for it.”
“And I will be delighted to give anything in my power,” she replied,
smiling up into his eyes. “Please tell me in what coin you will take
your pay.”
“The same that Johnnie, who stayed so long at the fair, wanted to have
for the fair ring he promised to bring his lady-love.”
“And will you buy me a bunch of blue ribbon to tie up my bonny brown
hair?” she asked with a merry look and smile.
“Not brown, Blanche, darling, it’s pure gold,” laughed her Cousin
William.
“And gold and blue look quite as pretty together as blue and brown,”
remarked Dorothy.
“I’ll buy you as many bunches of blue ribbon as you want and are willing
to pay for in the same kind of coin,” said Uncle George, laying aside
the napkin he had just been using, turning toward Blanche, taking her
face between his hands, and bestowing several kisses upon the rosy
cheeks and red lips.
“There, uncle, you helped yourself, but I didn’t give you any,” she said
laughingly, as he released her, then putting her arms around his neck
she returned his caresses.
“That’s the right kind of coin,” he said, “and I think I must spare you
a few minutes of my valuable time. We are all done eating, and we will
go up now to your aunt’s room to say good-morning to her and show you
the wedding silk; for she wants the pleasure of seeing how you like it.
Come along, Dorothy, George, and Will, if you care to see what
impression it makes.”
All accepted the invitation and followed quickly after him and Blanche
as he led her up the stairs and into Mrs. Eldon’s room, where she sat in
her invalid chair, looking over the morning paper. She turned toward
them as they entered, saying in a pleasant tone, “Ah, good-morning,
Blanche, I am glad to see you. Good-morning, my sons. Help your cousin
and yourselves to seats. My dear, you are as much at home here as I am.
I’m pleased that you found time to come up again before leaving for the
store. Dorothy, will you please get out the packages and let Blanche see
what she thinks of the goods?”
Dorothy opened a closet door and brought out several packages done up in
brown paper, handing one to her uncle. “I think you are the one to show
this, sir,” she said with a smile.
“Very well,” he replied, and in another moment Blanche was gazing with
delighted eyes upon the rich folds of the white silk intended for her
wedding dress.
“Oh, I think it is the very loveliest thing I ever saw!” she exclaimed,
clasping her hands in an ecstasy of admiration. “Thank you, uncle, thank
you a thousand times! Oh, what a beautiful dress it will make trimmed
with that lovely, lovely lace you have given Ethel and me for that
purpose.”
“Yes, it is very handsome, and you must have veils too,” said her aunt,
enjoying the sight of the young girl’s pleasure almost as much as she
did that of the silk. “Show her the material for them, Dorothy.”
Dorothy obeyed, saying, “This is Aunt Sarah’s own gift toward your
trousseaus.”
“Oh, auntie, thank you very much,” cried Blanche, examining it
critically, “it is just lovely, and I am sure will make up beautifully.”
“I am glad you like it,” Mrs. Eldon said with a gratified look.
“And these two dress patterns, of different shades of gray silk, are
from Uncle Albert,” remarked Dorothy, opening another package. “He
thought you would not want to be always dressed exactly alike, and says
you are to decide for yourselves which shall have which.”
“Ethel, as the eldest, should be the one to settle that question,” said
Blanche. “I think them both so beautiful that I shall not care which is
left for me. Oh, how kind in Uncle Albert to give them to us!”
“And here is enough handsome black silk to make a dress for each of
you,” continued Dorothy, opening still another package and displaying
its contents. “It is Aunt Augusta’s wedding gift.”
“I—I am almost overwhelmed!” cried Blanche, scarcely able to speak from
emotion. “I who never before had even one perfectly new silk dress! Oh,
Uncle George, I am afraid you and Uncle Albert will ruin yourselves
doing so much for us!”
“I have no great apprehensions of that, my little girl,” he returned
with a fatherly smile. “You are the only nieces we have to provide
for—except Dorothy here for me, and I don’t mean to let her go for a
good while yet,” smiling affectionately upon her; “so it would be a sad
pity if we couldn’t open our hearts enough to give you a few wedding
clothes. But I must go now, and I think it would be well for you and
Dorothy to start out pretty soon to attend to that important shopping
which I hear you have on hand.”
With that the three gentlemen withdrew from the room, and after a few
minutes’ chat with their aunt about the purchases to be made that
morning, Dorothy and Blanche started out also.
They returned to Ethel at dinner time to report as good success with
their shopping as hers of the previous day. Blanche had bought a gray
travelling dress of a different shade from that of her sister, a hat and
gloves to match it, besides various smaller articles needed to complete
her trousseau, and Ethel admired and approved to the entire satisfaction
of the purchasers.
“Now,” said Dorothy, “I think we need do very little, if any more,
shopping for some weeks, when the spring fashions have come out; but
there is plenty of sewing connected with what we have already bought to
keep us all three busy. How I wish you were ready to come to us at once,
so that we could get fairly to work immediately.”
“Dorothy, how very kind you are,” said Ethel, giving her a bright look
and smile. “I doubt if many girls in your place would think it any
concern of theirs whether our sewing was done in season or not, or offer
us any assistance with it.”
“Ah, but you see I am naturally fond of such doings as you have on hand
at present,” laughed Dorothy. “Now, can’t you decide to close out
earlier than you have been intending to—say in two or three weeks, if
not sooner? I know perfectly well that aunt and uncle would be delighted
to have you come to them so much sooner than you have intended, to say
nothing of the boys and the girl Dorothy.”
“Then perhaps you may be glad to hear of something that occurred this
morning while you two were shopping. A woman called in to say that,
hearing I was going to give up the house this spring, she would like to
look at it with a view to taking it. So I took her over it from attic to
cellar. She seemed to think it would exactly suit her, and if it would
not inconvenience me to move out sooner than I had intended—say in a
week or two—she would be very glad to take it off my hands, buying the
fixtures, most of the furniture, and the goods also—as she means to keep
the same kind of stock—and settling for the rent I should have to pay
the landlord if I had stayed on as long as I had intended.”
“Oh, delightful!” cried Dorothy. “I hope you closed with the offer at
once?”
“No, not exactly,” replied Ethel, smiling at Dorothy’s earnestness, “but
I told her I would give her my answer to-morrow or next day. I wanted
time you see to consult my uncles, and to make sure I should not
inconvenience anybody by accepting the invitation from Uncle George and
Aunt Sarah so much earlier than they and we had expected.”
“I can assure you you needn’t hesitate one minute about that,” returned
Dorothy. “Suppose you come up and talk with Aunt Sarah and the uncles
this evening and have it settled. Then you can see some pretty things we
were showing Blanche this morning.”
“Oh, yes, Ethel; some lovely gifts to us from Uncle Albert and the two
aunts.”
“Oh, hush!” cried Dorothy, “don’t tell what they are, but let her be
surprised as you were this morning.”
“Why, you cruel thing! the idea of keeping her waiting so long!”
exclaimed Blanche in simulated wrath.
“Oh, I can wait,” laughed Ethel; “mysteries and expectations are really
delightful things sometimes. Now I think of it, as we do not often have
much custom in the evenings, Harry and you and I, Blanche, might go to
Uncle George’s after tea and talk the matter over with him and Uncle
Albert; see the pretty things too, and thank them and the aunts for
their gifts.”
The others thought well of the plan and it was duly carried out
The uncles highly approved of the immediate closing up of Ethel’s
business, and the coming to their houses of both nieces and nephew
without any unnecessary delay. In consequence they were all, in less
than a fortnight, installed as temporary members of their Uncle George’s
family, the girls very busy with the necessary preparations for their
approaching nuptials, and Dorothy equally so as their most kind helper.
The young lady cousins next door took a languid interest and prepared
some little wedding gifts for each of the prospective brides, but that
was the utmost of their helpfulness.
Busy though they were—very busy with their preparations—Ethel and
Blanche managed to find time to carry on a brisk correspondence with
Percy and Stuart, whose letters kept them informed of the progress made
from week to week in the building of their houses and the laying out of
the grounds, assuring them that they confidently hoped to have the
pretty homes ready in good season for their occupants. Their fathers, so
they wrote, would give them, not the grounds and houses alone, but
furniture for them also, and it was their intention to buy carpets,
curtains, and parlor furniture at least, in Philadelphia when they went
on for their brides. These would be sent immediately to Pleasant Plains,
as their town was called, and arranged in the houses by their Aunt Annis
and others of the family who intended to remain at home while the bridal
party made their wedding trip, visiting various places of note in the
Eastern and Middle States.
“Oh, how pleasant!” exclaimed Dorothy on hearing of these arrangements;
“you can go right into your own homes just as soon as you reach the
town. I should like nothing better if I were in your place.”
“It suits us exactly,” said Ethel.
“Aunt Sarah was saying only this morning that it was time to be
preparing invitations to the wedding and sending them out,” remarked
Dorothy, “and she wants you girls to make out a list of the relatives
and friends of the bridegroom that are to be, who ought to receive
cards, so that she can attend to the business, which is just in her
line, as she can do it sitting in her chair and with very little
exertion.”
“It is most kind in aunt, and we will write at once for such a list,”
replied Ethel, looking highly gratified; for both she and Blanche wished
to show every attention to the relatives of Percy and Stuart, but had
not thus far felt that they had any right to invite them, or anyone, to
the house of their uncle; and he had expressed a wish to have the
ceremony performed in his own parlor.
The letters were promptly written, sent by the next train for the West,
and a reply containing the requested list came by the return of mail.
It gave the names of relatives only, few besides the Keiths, Aunt
Wealthy Stanhope, and such of the Dinsmores as were related to Mrs.
Marcia Keith, the maternal grandmother of Percy and Stuart, including,
of course, those of New Jersey who had for years so kindly befriended
Ethel, Blanche, and their younger brother and sister.
The girls had few friends or acquaintances outside of the families of
their two uncles, and desiring a quiet wedding because of their recent
bereavement, none others were invited.
They were very busy with their preparations, yet had time enough to take
matters easily and not be so overworked as to mar their good looks or
exhaust their strength. They were almost at leisure and looking rosy and
happy, when their intended partners for life walked in upon them some
days before the one appointed for the important ceremony.
The arrival was not unexpected, for it had been agreed upon that they
should come in good season to allow time for each young couple to make
their purchases of household goods and have them shipped for Pleasant
Plains before the wedding.
Some two or three days were spent most enjoyably in this fascinating
work of choosing the adornments of their future homes, Dorothy sometimes
accompanying them, by invitation, that they might have the benefit of
her excellent taste and judgment.
In the meantime letters of acceptance or declination, accompanied by
gifts—principally of handsome jewelry or silver ware—came pouring in
from the invited relatives, causing the most pleasurable excitement
Ethel and Blanche had ever known.
Dorothy heartily rejoiced with and for them, fairly going into ecstasies
over a diamond pin for each, from Mr. Horace Dinsmore and his father,
and lovely bracelets from Mr. Travilla and his wife, the dear Cousin
Elsie of whom they had often heard Mrs. Landreth speak.
These handsome gifts were accompanied by letters expressing kindly
interest and the hope of making the acquaintance of the young brides at
some future day, but declining to attend the wedding, as it was not
convenient for any of them to leave home just at that time.
Aunt Wealthy, too, declined for the same reason, and because of her
advanced years, but sent a piece of silver ware to each of the brides
and a warm, even urgent invitation for a visit to her on their homeward
way.
“Dear old auntie!” exclaimed Percy on reading the letter, which Ethel
had handed to him, “I think, Stuart, we should try to manage it; if our
brides are willing,” he added with a smiling glance at the two girls
sitting near. “It will not take us very much out of our way, and would
be such a gratification to her.”
“With all my heart, if the ladies do not object,” returned Stuart with
an enquiring look at them. “I do not believe either of them would regret
it, for she is, as you say, ‘a dear old lady.’ A very amusing one, also,
at times,” he added with a mirthful look.
“Oh, yes; I have heard your mother and sisters speak of her, Percy, and
I should like nothing better than to pay her a little visit in her own
house, and engage her to make a return, if possible,” Ethel said, her
eyes sparkling with pleasure at the very idea.
“I, too,” exclaimed Blanche. “Oh, it would be lovely! better than going
to the Eastern States, if we cannot do both.”
“Oh, we can do both,” said Stuart, “if we do not stay too long at any
one place.”
“Yes, of course, we do not expect ever to have another honeymoon,”
laughed Percy. “If nobody objects, I’ll write at once to Aunt Wealthy
that we hope and expect to accept her invitation.” A moment of silence,
then Blanche said:
“I think you are safe in doing so, as we have all expressed a desire to
make the visit.”
“Yes; then I’ll write to-night,” said Percy. “Oh, by the way, I received
a letter from Cousin Horace Dinsmore, junior—who is about my own
age—accepting an invitation I sent him the other day to be one of our
groomsmen.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” said Ethel. “Having heard a great deal about
the family I have wanted very much to see them.”
“Which I intend you shall one of these days, if I have to take you all
the way down there,” laughed Percy.
“Possibly you maybe able to induce them to pay us a visit this coming
summer or fall,” said Stuart. “I own to a strong desire to see them
myself; so many years having passed since there was an exchange of
visits that I have no recollection of any of the family.”
“I should think not,” laughed Percy; “for if I am not mistaken none of
them have visited our part of the country since you were born. I was
taken down there in my babyhood, but, of course, have no recollection of
the circumstances, or of the relatives I saw there. But we have heard so
much talk about them, and read so many of their letters, that it almost
seems as if we had seen and known them.”
“Yes, I believe you are right,” Stuart said musingly. “I shall be
pleased to make the acquaintance of Horace, junior, so am very glad he
is coming. It brings up the number of our groomsmen to six—Horace, Harry
Eldon, Stuart Landreth, and the three cousins of the brides—George,
William, and Albert.”
“And we have the same number of bridesmaids,” remarked Blanche; “your
sister and Percy’s two, his and your cousin Mary Keith, our cousin
Minnie Eldon, and Dorothy. Aunt Sarah says we must have a rehearsal
to-night.”
“Yes,” said Stuart, “and another after Horace Dinsmore gets here, as he
will to-morrow, I think.”
“And we expect all our party from Pleasant Plains to be here in the city
by that time,” added Percy; “so that we may hope to get all the intended
bridesmaids and groomsmen together for that second one.”
“I think they will get in to-night,” said Stuart; “and it will be well
if they do, as that will give them—I mean the girls, particularly—time
to rest a bit before going through the ordeal.”
“The rehearsal will be scarcely an ordeal, but——” It was Blanche who
spoke, but she paused without finishing her sentence, and assuming a
comical expression of pretended fright and apprehension.
“The actual ceremony will?” queried Stuart laughingly.
“Yes; remembering that I have heard more than once that men are
deceivers,” she sighed. “Alas! if I should be mistaken in the one to
whose keeping I commit my happiness.”
“It would be dreadful,” returned Stuart regarding her with admiring,
laughing eyes, “and perhaps equally so should I be mistaken in the
little woman to whom I commit mine. But I am not afraid.”
“Nor need you be, Blanche, let me assure you,” said Percy. “Try to be as
reasonable and trustful as Ethel, who I feel convinced is not the least
afraid of me,” he added with a happy little laugh, and a glance of
ardent affection at his betrothed.
“Ah, who shall say that that is not because she is a brave—if not
particularly bright woman?” laughed Ethel.
“I,” said Percy; “you, Miss Eldon, are the only person who will be
permitted to utter such a slander concerning her in my presence.”
The next few days seemed taken up by a whirl of pleasurable
excitement—introductions to new friends, soon to become relatives, the
reception of many beautiful presents, the rehearsals of those who were
to take part in the ceremony, the trimming of the house with flowers,
the trying on of wedding finery, and selecting of flowers—orange
blossoms—for the adornment of the brides.
There was scarcely time to think of the pain of the coming partings from
brother, uncles, and other relatives; pain it would be, yet not to be
compared with that of many a young bride who must leave father, mother,
home, and more than one loved brother and sister.
The wedding was a pronounced success; brides and bridesmaids looking
their best—groom and groomsmen also—and each going through his or her
part of the ceremony in an altogether creditable manner.
A wedding feast followed; then came the leave-takings and the scattering
of the guests and the bridal party, the latter taking the cars for New
York, where they spent some days in sight-seeing; from there they went
on to Boston, where a week was spent visiting places in the city and its
vicinity interesting from a historical point of view. Then they returned
to New York, went up the Hudson on a fine steamer to West Point, where
they spent a day and a night; then by boat again up to Albany, where
they made but a brief halt, then took the cars for Saratoga, spent a few
days there, during which they visited the battlefield—all being
intensely interested in everything connected with the struggle that had
made us a nation.
Their next pause was at Niagara, where they made a brief stay to see the
Falls. From there they went to Lansdale, O., to pay the promised visit
to Aunt Wealthy, which would be their last halt on their homeward way.