A JUNE DAY
To invite every individual in the village to the marriage of the Girl
Scout Troop Captain and Mr. Winslow was not possible, and yet there
were moments when Mrs. Mason insisted that this appeared to be her
daughter’s idea.
On a June morning at an old stone church in Westhaven, set in a wide
churchyard filled with ancient elm trees, the wedding was to take place.
Upon the day, shortly before the hour set for the ceremony, the Girl
Scout Troop of the Eagle’s Wing, save the original Patrol, who were
to act as bridesmaids, entered the church. They were seated in the
pews toward the front, just behind the family, that had been set aside
especially for them. In less than two years the number of Girl Scouts
in Westhaven had increased to half a dozen patrols.
Not long after, the Boy Scouts of the village followed.
Dressed in their uniforms, later, when the other wedding guests had
assembled, the Scouts formed a conspicuous note of golden brown color
amid the lighter muslins and silks of the women and girls and the
darker clothes of the men.
Ignoring the old difficulties which had so long separated them, Memory
Frean came to the wedding accompanied by Miss Victoria Fenton and Mr.
Richard Fenton. She looked very handsome in a dark-blue chiffon made
over a darker shade of red and with a bunch of red roses at her waist.
Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy Hammond motored down from their country place,
bringing Lucy with them. More than ever the little girl looked like a
gorgeous butterfly in a beautiful yellow silk gown, her white leghorn
hat trimmed in a wreath of golden poppies.
Half a dozen children from the Gray House on the Hill, who had been
Sheila Mason’s special friends among the younger group whom Katherine
Moore had once loved and mothered, were also invited.
As a special favor, “Billy Do,” of former days, was asked to sit beside
his once-adored little girl friend, “Lucy Don’t.”
A shy little boy, thin and freckled, Billy had greatly altered in the
past two years. Not the slightest interest did he display in Lucy, who
treated him with unexpected friendliness.
She seemed hurt and puzzled until the ceremony began and then,
girl-like, forgot everything and everybody in the intensity of her
excitement.
Sheila Mason was a typical June bride, fair and sweet, with a dress of
pure white silk covered with a long tulle veil, and her arms filled
with white roses.
The eight bridesmaids had adopted Tory Drew’s suggestion. Their dresses
shaded from palest green to bronze, every tint of the beech leaf from
spring to autumn. Made of tarleton, with several skirts, the uppermost
one of green, the sashes and hats were of bronze. They might have been
spirits from Beechwood Forest save for their very human interest in
themselves, the ceremony, and the great church crowded with their own
and Sheila Mason’s friends.
Save for a dozen old-time acquaintances who had come up from New York,
Mr. Winslow had invited no one. He had no family save a sister, who had
married and lived too far away to be present.
As Tory, with flushed cheeks and wide, dark eyes, listened to the
ever-impressive words of the wedding ceremony, which she actually
was hearing read in church for the first time in her life, she stared
with amazed wonder at her artist friend. Was this the disappointed,
half-embittered man she had met in New York City only a few brief
months before? For the first time Tory was brought face to face with
the change that happiness can bring to a human life.
Two hours later Tory Drew and Dorothy McClain found themselves seated
side by side upon a divan in the corner of the drawing-room of Mr. and
Mrs. Mason’s home.
The bride and groom had departed; only a few guests were still
lingering, the intimate friends of the host and hostess.
The girls appeared weary and dispirited.
Dorothy put out her hand and touched the golden roses in the other
girl’s lap.
“There is something a little depressing about a wedding, isn’t there?
I wonder why? I was cheerful and happy enough this morning. I suppose
it is because things are now over and Sheila and Mr. Winslow no longer
here.”
She appeared uncommonly grave.
“Suppose we make a compact with each other, Tory, to keep the promise
we made the other day, you, Louise, and I, never to marry.”
Laughing, Tory Drew shook her head.
She had removed her hat, and her hair was a beautiful bright red-gold
rising above the pale green of her gown, the stem to some radiant,
gayly-colored flower.
“I don’t consider it wise to make rash compacts. We will keep our word
only if we really wish. But whatever fate overtakes us, remember ‘I am
the master of my fate, I am the Captain of my soul.’
“Now suppose we gather up our possessions, say good-by and start for
home.”
THE END
Transcriber’s Note:
The original text, spelling, punctuation, and hyphenation have been
retained as in the original publication except as follows:
Page 27
undertand her uncertainty _changed to_
understand her uncertainty
Page 50
begin the other cermony _changed to_
begin the other ceremony
Page 55
round table made an unforgetable _changed to_
round table made an unforgettable
Page 74
very timid and haltingly _changed to_
very timid and haltingly.
Page 76
Kara’s shook her head with emphasis _changed to_
Kara shook her head with emphasis
Page 104
habits She had revealed _changed to_
habits. She had revealed
Page 138
Louise was nearly aways _changed to_
Louise was nearly always
Page 146
they were never to forget _changed to_
they were never to forget.
Page 155
no one of them if half as _changed to_
no one of them is half as
Page 157
Your are sure to have a letter _changed to_
You are sure to have a letter