LISA’S WEDDING-DAY.
The sweet, perfume-laden air of June swept through Lisa’s room, where
she and Persis were busily engaged in packing away various small
articles. These were Lisa’s treasures, each suggesting some period of
her girlhood, and seeming alive with memories which more than once
brought the tears to the eyes of herself and her sister.
“Oh, Lisa! Lisa!” Persis exclaimed, in a burst of emotion. “It will
never be the same again. Girlhood will be gone for you in a few days. We
shall never be together in just the same way again.”
The bright drops stood on Lisa’s lashes. “Don’t, Persis, don’t. It isn’t
like you to see the shadowy side.”
“I know it.” And, remembering the Cheerful Three, she gulped down a sob.
“But then I don’t have sisters getting married every day,” she said, in
excuse.
“I should hope not,” returned Lisa. And that turned the balance, so that
instead of crying they both laughed.
A moment after, Mellicent came running up the steps. “Another express
package, Lisa. Hurry and open it.” And in the presence of this new
excitement, the little pile of mementos on the bed was swept into a box
and thrust aside to make room for this last addition to the
wedding-presents.
The three girls stood with their heads together to catch a sight of the
gift, which proved to be a fine piece of cut glass.
“That makes three bowls,” Mellicent announced. “How will you ever manage
to carry so many breakables over the face of the earth, Lisa?”
“I shall not try to. I’ll leave them here, and if we ever do settle down
in one place we can have them.”
At this moment there came to their hearing a little bustle of excitement
in the hall below, and a voice was heard saying, “Where is she? Where is
she?” Then came hurried footsteps up the stairs and along the entry.
Persis sprang to her feet and flew to the door. “It’s Annis!” she cried.
“Oh, Annis, you darling!” And the two girls threw themselves into each
other’s arms.
“I’m glad you’ve come,” cried Lisa. “Let’s look at you, Annis. Now
Persis will perhaps be comforted for my loss, over which she has been
mourning.”
“Oh, yes. You mustn’t forget to pay your respects to Lisa. She is the
most important person in the family just now. Think of it, a bride in
the house! We haven’t had one since our dolls were married.”
Annis embraced her other two cousins with a little less effusion, but it
was evident that they were glad to see her.
“Let’s see how you look, Annis,” Mellicent said. “We want to observe
your Paris style.”
“You won’t see much, I am afraid. This costume is quite English, you
know. Do I look like a travelled lady?”
“You look fine.” Persis held her off at arm’s length and took in the
details of the quiet, tailormade gown, the sweet little face, with its
touch of sunburn, under the sailor hat, the soft blue eyes full of
affection, and she flung her arms again around her cousin. “Oh, Annis,
you don’t know how glad I am to have you again,” she repeated. “Aren’t
you glad to be back? Come, tell me all about everything, and then we’ll
talk about the great event.”
“Let’s talk about the wedding first. The account of my travels will
keep.”
“And the wedding will not? Well, there is some truth in that. And you’ll
want to see the presents,—a hundred and nine so far.”
“And mine will make a hundred and ten.”
“Put it down, Mell,” cried Lisa. “A hundred and ten. I’m crazy to see
it, Annis.”
“Well, you shall as soon as our trunks come. It’s nothing very
magnificent, but I think you will like it.”
“It’s just like Christmas-time, isn’t it? Only the presents all come for
me, and I don’t have to hang up my stocking.”
“Do tell me all about the plans,” Annis entreated. “You see I haven’t
heard anything, for I’ve not had letters for two or three weeks.”
“Well it’s to be a real out and out high noon, bridesmaid affair. Lisa
is nothing if not stylish, you know. A breakfast afterwards here at
home,” Persis informed her. “I, of course, am to be best girl; then the
bridesmaids are to be you and Mell, Mr. Griffith’s sister and Margaret
Greene, Nellie Hall and Kitty Carew.”
“And the ushers?”
“Why, they are—let me see—Basil and Porter, Walter Dixon and Ned Carew;
think of poor Ned’s being called upon for such a service. Then, there
are two friends of Mr. Griffith’s.”
“Persis will _not_ call him Richard,” Lisa complained.
“I simply cannot,” declared Persis. “I should be sure to forget and call
him Dicky-bird some day, and disgrace myself. I’ll wait till he is
actually my brother-in-law. Oh, dear, fancy a brother-in-law.”
“He’s a dear,” interposed Mellicent. “I just love him, Annis.”
“Well, you see, I don’t know him so well as the others do, for I’ve been
at college most of the time that the rest have been making his
acquaintance,” Persis explained.
“Oh, yes, and college; there’s all that to talk about, Persis. How is it
Mr. Dan is not one of the ushers?”
“He was to have been, but I don’t think he could stand the strain upon
his feelings.”
“Now, Persis,” Lisa cried, reprovingly. “You know better than to say
such a thing.”
“I couldn’t have known better, or I should not have said it,” returned
Persis, laughing. “Oh, Annis, you know that Audrey Vane is married, and
she has gone to Ireland—or is it Spain?—to hunt up the grave of her
ancestor, King Milesius.”
“Now, Persis,” came a second reproachful voice. This time it was
Mellicent’s. “You know it is no such thing.”
“Annis, your coming has just sent Persis off on her high horse,” Lisa
remarked. “She hasn’t been so wicked since she came home from college.”
“It’s nervous excitement,” Persis excused herself by saying. “I’m not
responsible for what I say, or do, at this present time. Pardon me,
Pigeon, if I show any seeming disrespect to her highness, Lady Audrey
Vane—I mean Lady O’Flannigan.”
“It isn’t O’Flannigan,” Mellicent corrected. “You always say that, and
it’s Mallory.”
“Well, I knew there was a distinctly Hibernian flavor about it.” And
Persis flashed a mischievous look at her sister.
“Come, Annis, let’s go see the presents. Come, girls, we’ve not made our
manners to Mrs. Brown.” And the three followed the speaker down-stairs.
A week later there came a fair day, for the dawn of which Persis had
been watching since the first peep of the earliest robin. Fresh and
sweet came the morning air through her vine-hung window, and as rosy
clouds sent their flushes up the sky, and she saw that the day promised
to be all that could be desired, she went to Lisa’s door and tapped
softly. To Lisa’s “Come in,” Persis responded by flying to her as she
sat up in bed. It was to each of them almost the most solemn moment in
the day as they sat clasped in each other’s arms, not saying a word.
It was Persis who broke the silence by saying, “Oh, Lisa, I’m so glad we
don’t quarrel as dreadfully as we used to.”
“So am I,” returned Lisa. “I wonder what made us such scratch-cats.”
“Too much Ego.” Persis contributed this with a wise look on her face, at
which Lisa laughed.
“Well,” she responded. “This is the one day in all my life in which I
suppose I may be considered to have the right to give my Ego full rein.”
“So you may. Oh, Lisa, have you noticed what an exquisite morning it is?
I was so afraid it was going to be very warm, and I don’t think it will
be. Are you very nervous?”
“No, I think not very. I do feel queer when I remember that after to-day
I shall never be Lisa Holmes again.”
“How many times have you written ‘Mrs. Richard Griffith’ on slips of
paper which no one would see?” asked Persis, laughing.
Lisa blushed, but laughed, too. “What do you know about such things,
miss? You, who have never been in love?”
And it was Persis’s turn to blush. “That’s turning the tables nicely,”
she answered, merrily. “I don’t know a thing from experience, only from
being a looker-on. I may have rummaged your scrapbasket some time.”
“I don’t believe it. You don’t do such mean, sneaky things.”
“Thank you, ma’am. See, Lisa, it is broad daylight. I am going to get
up, for there is a deal to do before you can be ready to walk up the
middle aisle. How gorgeous it will be to see so many uniforms and pretty
summer gowns. I think June is surely the month for weddings.”
“Shall I have the pleasure of attending yours next year, Miss Holmes?”
“Oh, I shall be Miss Holmes after to-day, sure enough. No, madam. No
wedding for me this year, I fell up the steps yesterday. Lisa, did you
ever see any one look lovelier than Mellicent in her bridesmaid frock?
She will make a sensation to-day among the naval officers.”
“Yes. I want to have you both down to the ball at Annapolis, if we ever
are stationed there.”
“How fine! But, indeed, we must dress, Lisa.” And Persis slipped out of
bed and ran to her own room.
The presence of a lot of young people took away from the seriousness
which might have been felt at the breakfast-table. Annis Brown, Basil
and Porter Phillips were present, and the chatter went on in the
liveliest manner. Porter usually had a fund of anecdotes and jokes, and
was really quite a brilliant talker. Basil, though usually quiet, had a
keen appreciation of humor, and when he did say anything funny it was
extremely droll, consequently even Grandmother Estabrook laughed till
the tears came to her eyes.
“We cannot spend any more time in giving ourselves over to this unseemly
mirth,” declared Persis. “We’ve got to dress the bride and each other,
and see that mamma’s hair is arranged just right, and that grandma
carries out her reputation for dignified elegance.”
“She never fails to,” put in Basil, who was a stanch champion of Mrs.
Estabrook’s.
“Of course. We know that, but the eyes of the American navy are upon us
to-day, and we want to put on some extra touches so as to impress the
guests with a due sense of our importance. There’s Richard. I did call
him Richard that time. Did you notice?” And Persis turned to Lisa. But
Lisa’s eyes were for the young naval officer who appeared at the door
with his sister, a girl about seventeen.
“Marjorie couldn’t wait,” Richard informed them. “She said you expected
her to dress here, and she charged all the bell-boys in the hotel to
call her at six o’clock. So here she is.” Lieutenant Griffith was a
pleasant-looking fellow, not specially handsome, “a real thoroughbred,”
Porter called him. His manner was charming and his voice rarely well
modulated. He was desperately proud of having won Lisa, whose beauty he
was never tired of gazing upon.
“I’m only afraid he will spoil our girl,” Mrs. Holmes had said to her
mother. “She is already too imperious.”
“I always felt that Mr. Danforth would have suited her better in many
ways,” Mrs. Estabrook confessed; “that she would have developed into a
finer woman through his influence; but we can be thankful that Richard
is such a dear, good, sweet-tempered fellow, and Lisa has chosen more
wisely than we at one time imagined she might.”
From breakfast-time on the bustle grew greater. One after another of the
relatives arrived; belated presents appeared; the bridesmaids fluttered
up- and down-stairs; Porter and Basil rushed in and out to see after
certain forgotten matters, and all went merry as the traditional
marriage-bell.
Porter was bent upon carrying out one or two practical jokes which he
had planned for the occasion. In vain Lisa had said, with her haughtiest
air, that it was ill-bred and vulgar to do such things. In vain Persis
had declared insistently that it was coarse and unkind. Porter was bent
upon his scheme, and the girls had determined to outwit him. They said
nothing, but it was a prearranged plan that Lisa’s baggage should be
sent out of the house several days before she left it a bride.
Consequently the conspicuously placed trunks upon which Porter had
determined to paste enormous red paper hearts, were simply dummies, and
to thwart the too zealous well-wishers in the matter of rice and old
shoes was the next puzzle.
At last the bells rang out high noon, and as the last echo died away the
six bridesmaids appeared at the chancel of the beautiful old church, and
walking down the aisle met the bride, who wore the conventional white
satin, her veil being rare old lace, a family heirloom. Persis, in
white, was the maid of honor; Mellicent and Marjorie Griffith came next
in costumes of faint gauzy pink; then Annis and Margaret Greene in pale
buff, and lastly Nellie Hall and Kitty Carew in delicate green. All the
bridesmaids wore picturesque hats, and were truly lovely.
Persis, all excitement, felt perhaps as keenly as did her sister, since
she was of a more emotional temperament. It was with difficulty that she
could keep back the tears, especially as, walking down the aisle, she
saw her mother’s lips trembling, and caught sight of her grandmother’s
downcast eyes.
“Oh, I shall never, never marry,” she told the girls, as she found
herself in the carriage being whirled back to the house. “It is too
dreadfully solemn a thing.”
But half an hour later it did not seem so dreadful as she stood watching
with Basil the wedding-guests who filled the room.
“See how devoted Dr. Wheeler is to Mellicent,” she whispered. “Isn’t he
handsome? They make a fine-looking pair. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes, but I don’t want Mellicent to fell in love with him.”
“Why? Do you want her yourself?” asked Persis, flippantly.
“No-o.” Basil spoke as if giving the subject a little thought. “I don’t
believe I do.”
Persis laughed. “I really believe you are considering the matter.”
“No; I was thinking of some one else.”
“Oh.” Persis followed his glance, and saw that it sought out Porter,
who, though devoting himself to a pretty girl, cast dour looks once in a
while in Mellicent’s direction. “Is that it?” she cried, with sudden
enlightenment.
“What?”
“Why, Porter. I never dreamed of it. He’s too young to think of such
things; so is Mellicent, for that matter. She is scarcely seventeen, and
he is only a boy.”
“A pretty big one.”
“Yes, but I don’t believe it is a real feeling. He’ll get over it,
Basil. Men always do.”
“Do they? How do you know so much?”
“That is what every one asks me when I offer my nuggets of wisdom. I do
know cousin Ambrose Peyton didn’t, to be sure, but he’s the exception
that proves the rule. Oh, Basil, don’t let Porter go to the railroad
station. We don’t want him to badger that long-suffering bride and
groom.”
“How can we keep him?”
“Mellicent can, maybe.”
“I don’t doubt it. What a wise head! but we’ll have to give her a word
on the subject. Hallo! There’s Mr. Dan.”
“I didn’t see him at church.”
“I did.”
“Did you? Oh, but you had a fine chance to see every one.”
“Shall I tell him where you are?”
Persis glanced up at her companion to see if she could discover any
underlying motive in his question, but Basil looked down at her with
serene eyes.
“Yes, go tell him, if you want to,” she said, a trifle impatiently. And
Basil went. A moment later Persis saw him at Annis’s side, while Mr.
Danforth stood before her. For some reason a spirit of coquetry totally
foreign to her took possession of the girl, and she looked up with a
glance which set the young man’s pulses beating.
“Why did you refuse to help us out with what Porter calls ‘the ushing’?”
she asked.
“I wasn’t sure of being able to keep an engagement of that kind, and I
know what a nuisance it is to have plans disarranged at the very last
moment.”
“You always are so very thoughtful.” Persis looked down at her roses.
“I have hardly seen you since your return from college. Haven’t you a
lot to tell me?”
“I have, indeed, and I have a lot to ask.”
“Your position as editor of the children’s department is still waiting
for you.”
“Not waiting. Miss Bond does very well, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, quite well.”
“Then I think she would best keep the position a while longer. By
refusing to take her place I shall be doing an act of mercy in more than
one direction.”
“But not in all.”
“Why?”
The young man was silent a moment. “Not in mine,” he said at last.
Persis flushed, and turned abruptly. “Oh, Lisa has gone up to change her
dress,” she exclaimed, glad of an excuse to escape. “I must go to her,
Mr. Dan.” And she fled to her sister, whom she found bidding her mother
a tearful farewell.
“Oh, mother dear, don’t cry,” said Persis. “You know there is so much
sunshine, Lisa will have rainbows before her eyes all the way if she
weeps in this way, and the landscape will look as if it had been painted
by a rank impressionist. Mrs. Griffith, we have managed beautifully.
Wild horses can’t drag Porter to the station, and everything else is
smooth sailing.”
“Mrs. Griffith! How funny it sounds. I am Mrs. Griffith, but just the
same, dear, dear people, I am always your Lisa,” the bride said, with a
little catch in her voice. Then with one more close embrace she left her
mother and ran to the steps.
“Where’s your bouquet? You must throw it,” cried a dozen voices.
Persis ran back for it, and Lisa gave it a toss.
“Look at the hands stretched out for it,” laughed Persis. “What a
comment upon the desire for a speedy marriage. Oh, see who has it!”
Annis had caught it and had given a swift little glance at Basil, who
stood by her side.
Then came a shower of rice, and, as the newly married pair started off,
a dozen old shoes went flying after them, a particularly disreputable
one lodging on top of the carriage, which fast elicited a mocking cheer
from the boys.
Fifteen minutes later, however, Mellicent announced, triumphantly, “You
needn’t be so jubilant, Porter, Lisa outwitted you. There was another
carriage waiting for them around the corner, they just transferred
themselves into that, and Lisa’s baggage was sent by express a week
ago.”
“I vow!” cried Porter, looking so crestfallen that a burst of laughter
went up from all present.
It was evening before the last guest had departed, but the sunshine had
gone out of her day long ere this for Persis. “Oh Lisa! Lisa!” she
sighed, as she sought her sister’s empty room, and perhaps the tears
which rose to her eyes were not altogether on Lisa’s account.
[Illustration: '[Fleuron]’]