But to go back to Nancy. It was in August that Frank had stumblingly
told Gadsby of his troth; and so, along in April, Branton Hills was
told that a grand church ritual would occur in May. May, with its
blossoms, birds and balmy air! An idyllic month for matrimony. I wish
that I could call this grand church affair by its common, customary
nomination; but that word can't possibly crowd into _this_ story. It
must pass simply as a church ritual.
All right; so far, so good. So, along into April all Branton Hills was
agog, awaiting information as to that actual day; or, I should say,
night.
Gadsby's old Organization of Youth was still as loyal to all in it as
it was, way back in days of its formation; days of almost constantly
running around town, soliciting funds for many a good Municipal
activity. Finally this group got cards announcing that on May Fourth,
Branton Hills' First Church would admit all who might wish to aid in
starting Nancy and Frank upon that glamorous path to matrimonial bliss.
May Fourth was punctual in arriving; though many a young girl got into
that flighty condition in which a month drags along as though in
irons, and clock-hands look as if stuck fast. But to many girls, also,
May Fourth was not any too far away; for charming gowns and dainty
hats do not grow upon shrubs, you know; and girls who work all day
must hurry at night, at manipulating a thousand or so things which go
towards adorning our girls of today.
Now, an approach to a young girl's "big day" is not always as that
girl might wish. Small things bob up, which, at first, look actually
disastrous for a joyous occasion; and for Nancy and Frank, just such a
thing did bob up; for, on May Third, a pouring rain and whistling wind
put Branton Hills' spirits way, way down into a sorrowful slump. Black,
ugly, rumbling clouds hung aggravatingly about in a saturation of mist,
rain and fog; and roads and lawns got such a washing that Nancy said:--
"Anyway, if I can't _walk_ across that front church yard, I can _swim
it!!_"
That was Nancy; a small bunch of inborn good humor; and I'll say, right
now, that it _took_ good humor, and lots of it, to look upon conditions
out of your control, with such outstanding pluck!
But young Dan Cupid was still around, and got in touch with that
tyrannical mythological god who controls storms; and put forth such
a convincing account of all Nancy's good points, (and Frank's too, if
anybody should ask you) that a command rang out across a stormy sky:--
"Calling all clouds!! Calling all clouds!! All rain to stop at midnight
of May Third! Bright Sun on May Fourth, and no wind!!"
So, as Nancy took an anxious squint out of doors at about six o'clock
on that important morning, (and what young girl _could_ go on, calmly
snoozing on such a day?) Lo!! Old Sol was smiling brightly down on
Branton Hills; birds sang; all sorts of blossoming things had had a
good drink; and a most _glorious_ sky, rid of all ugly clouds, put our
young lady into such a happy mood that it took a lot of control to
avoid just a tiny bit of humidity around a small pair of rich, brown
orbs which always had that vibrating, dancing light of happy youth;
that miraculous "joy of living."
And, _what_ a circus was soon going full tilt in Mayor Gadsby's
mansion! If that happy man so much as said:--"Now, I----" a grand,
womanly chorus told him that "a man don't know anything about such
affairs;" and that a most satisfactory spot for him was in a hammock
on his porch, with a good cigar! That's it! A man is nominally monarch
in his own family; but _only_ so on that outstanding day upon which
a bridal gown is laid out in all its glory on his parlor sofa, and a
small mob of girls, and occasionally a woman or two, is rushing in and
out, up and down stairs, and finding as much to do as a commonly known
microscopic "bug" of prodigious hopping ability finds at a dog show.
_Rush! rush! rush!_ A thousand thoughts and a million words, (this
crowd was all girls, you know!) making that parlor as noisy as a saw
mill! But Gadsby laughingly staid out of it all, watching big armfuls
of bloom and many a curious looking box go in through that front door;
flying hands rapidly untying glorious ribbon wrappings.
Now, upon all such occasions you will find, if you snoop around in
dining room or pantry, an astonishing loaf of culinary art, all fancy
frosting, and chuck full of raisins and citron, which is always cut
upon such an auspicious occasion; and it is as hard to avoid naming it,
in this story, as it is to withstand its assault upon your stomach.
Oh hum! Now what? Aha! May Fourth, lasting, as Nancy said, "for about
a million months," finally got Gadsby's dining room clock around
to six-fifty; only about an hour, now, to that grand march past
practically half of Branton Hills' population; for all who couldn't jam
into that commodious church would stand around in a solid phalanx,
blocking all traffic in that part of town; for all Branton Hills was
fond of its Mayor's "baby girl."
But, during this rush and hubbub, how about Frank? Poor boy! Now,
if you think that a young lad at such an instant is as calm as a
mill-pond, you don't know romantic Youth, that's all. About forty of
Gadsby's old Organization boys, now manly young chaps, had bought him a
car, which Nancy was _not_ to know anything about until that throwing
of old boots, and what is also customary, had quit. Frank didn't want
to hold it back from Nancy, but what can a chap do, against forty?
Also, last night, at a big "so sorry, old chap" party, Frank had found
how loyal a bunch of old pals can turn out; and this "grand launching
into matrimonial doubt" had put him in a happy mood for that all
important oration of two words:--"I do."
So now I'll hurry around to church to find out how Nancy's Organization
girls put in a long day of hard labor; not only at floor work, but up
on stools and chairs. My! My! Just _look_ and gasp!! A long chain of
lilacs runs from door to altar in two rows. And _look_ at that big arch
of wistaria and narcissus half way along! Artificial palms stand in
curving ranks from organ to walls; and, with all lights softly glowing
through pink silk hoods; and with gilt cords outlining an altar-dais
of moss and sprays of asparagus, it is a sight to bring a thrill to
anybody, young or old.
And, now--_aha!!_ With organist and Pastor waiting, a murmur and
hand-clapping from that big front door told all who had luckily got in
that Nancy was coming! It took thirty cars to bring that bridal party
to church; for not a boy or girl of our old Organization would miss
this occasion for a farm, with a pig on it with four kinks in its tail.
Now, naturally, any girl would long to walk up that Holy path with
Nancy, but too many would spoil things; so, by drawing lots, Nancy had
for company, Sarah Young, Lucy Donaldson, Priscilla Standish, Virginia
Adams, Doris Johnson and Cora Grant; with Kathlyn as Maid of Honor, as
charming an array of youthful glory as you could find in all Branton
Hills.
Until this important arrival, Branton Hills' famous organist, just
plain John Smith, was playing softly,--"Just a Song at Twilight,"
watching for a signal from Mayor Gadsby; and soon swung into that
famous march which brought forth a grand thrill, as tiny, blushing,
palpitating Nancy took "Dad's" arm, gazing with shining orbs at that
distant--oh, _so_ distant--altar.
Now I want to know why anybody should want to cry on such a grand
occasion. What is sad about it? But many a lash was moist as that tiny
vision of glamorous purity slowly trod that fragrant pathway. Possibly
girls can't avoid it; anyway, our Branton Hills girls didn't try to do
so.
Gadsby, as has many a good old Dad, fought back any such showing;
but I won't say that his thoughts didn't nag him; for, giving away
your baby girl to any young, though first-class chap, is not actually
_fun_. But that long, long trail finally brought him to that mossy
dais, at which Frank, coming in through a handy door, stood waiting.
Nancy was as calm as a wax doll; but Frank stood shaking with a most
annoying cough (of imaginary origin!) as Pastor Brown stood, book in
hand. Now I won't go through with all that was said; nor say anything
about Nancy's tiny, warm, soft hand as it was put in Frank's big clumsy
fist by Pastor Brown. Nor about that first Holy kiss; nor that long,
mighty roar of organ music, as our happy, blushing pair trod that long
pathway, doorwards. You know all about it, anyway, as most such rituals
follow a standard custom. Nor shall I go into that happy hour at His
Honor's mansion, during which that fancy loaf of frosting, raisins and
citron was cut; (and which many a girl put in a pillow that night!);
nor of that big bridal bunch of blossoms, which was thrown from a
stairway into a happy group of hopping, jumping, laughing girls. (But
I will say,--shhhh! that Kathlyn caught it!); nor anything of Nancy
and Frank's thrilling trip to Branton Hills' big railway station, in
that gift car which Nancy thought was a king's chariot; nor of a grand,
low bow by old Pat Ryan of that station's trunk room. It was just that
customary "_All aboard!!_" a crowd's "Hooray!!" and "Good Luck!!", with
Branton Hills' Municipal Band a-blaring, and a mighty mob shouting and
waving.