Part 13 (2/2)
”I wonder if the bride's happiness measures up to the morning,” he asked. ”Mine does.”
For answer she glanced around, her finger on her lips as if to warn him that walls have ears, and then with a light little laugh tossed the rosebud down to him. ”Wait! I'll come and tell you,” she said.
Betty, gathering up her writing material, saw him catch the rose, touch it to his lips and fasten it in his coat. Then, conscience-smitten that she had seen the little by-play not intended for other eyes, she bolted back into her room through the window, so hurriedly that she struck her head against the sash with a force which made her see stars for several minutes.
The first excitement after breakfast was the arrival of the bride's cake. Aunt Cindy had baked it, the bride herself had stirred the charms into it, but it had been sent to Louisville to be iced. Lloyd called the entire family into the butler's pantry to admire it, as it sat imposingly on a huge silver salver.
”It looks as if it might have come out of the Snow Queen's palace,” she said, ”instead of the confectionah's. Wouldn't you like to see the place where those snow-rose garlands grow?”
”Somebody take Phil away from it! Quick!” said Stuart. ”Once I had a birthday cake iced in pink with garlands of white sugar roses all around it, and he sneaked into the pantry before the party and picked off so many of the roses that it looked as if a mouse had nibbled the edges.
Aunt Patricia put him to bed and he missed the party, but we couldn't punish him that way if he should spoil the wedding cake, because we need his services as best man. So we'd better remove him from temptation.”
”Look here, son,” answered Phil, taking Stuart by the shoulders and pus.h.i.+ng him ahead of him. ”When it comes to raking up youthful sins you'd better lie low. 'I could a tale unfold' that would make Eugenia think that this is 'a fatal wedding morn,' If she knew all she wouldn't have you.”
”Then you sha'n't tell anything,” declared Lloyd. ”I'm not going to be cheated out of my share of the wedding, no mattah what a dahk past eithah of you had. Forget it, and come and help us hunt the foah-leaf clovahs that Eugenia wants for the dream-cake boxes.”
”What are they?” asked Miles Bradford, as he edged out of the pantry after the others. Mary happened to be the one in front of him, and she turned to answer, pointing to one of the shelves, where lay a pile of tiny heart-shaped boxes, tied with white satin ribbons.
”Each guest is to have one of those,” she explained. ”There'll be a piece of wedding cake in it, and a four-leaf clover if we can find enough to go around. Most people don't have the clovers, but Eugenia heard about them, and she wants to try all the customs that everybody ever had. You put it under your pillow for three nights, and whatever you dream will come true. If you dream about the same person all three nights, that is the one you will marry.”
”Horrible!” exclaimed he, laughing. ”Suppose one has nightmares. Will they come true?”
Mary nodded gravely. ”Mom Beck says so, and Eliot. So did old Mrs.
Bisbee. She's the one that told Eugenia about the clovers. There was one with her piece of cake from her sister's wedding, that she dreamed on nearly fifty years ago. She dreamed of Mr. Bisbee three nights straight ahead, and she said there never was a more fortunate wedding. They'll celebrate their golden anniversary soon.”
”Miss Mary,” asked her listener, solemnly, ”do you girls really believe all these signs and wonders? I have heard more queer superst.i.tions the few hours I have been in this Valley, than in all my life before.”
”Oh, no, we don't really believe in them. Only the darkies do that. But you can't help feeling more comfortable when they 'point right' for you than when they don't; like seeing the new moon over your right shoulder, you know. And it's fun to try all the charms. Eugenia says so many brides have done it that it seems a part of the performance, like the veil and the trail and the orange-blossoms.”
They pa.s.sed from the dining-room into the hall, then out on to the front porch, where they stood waiting for Joyce and Eugenia to get their hats. While they waited, Rob Moore joined them, and they explained the quest they were about to start upon.
”Where are you going to take us, Miss Lloyd?” asked Miles Bradford.
”According to the old legend the four-leaved clover is to be found only in Paradise.”
”Oh, do you know a legend about it?” asked Betty, eagerly. ”I've always thought there ought to be one.”
”Then you must read the little book, Miss Betty, called 'Abdallah, or the Four-leaved Shamrock.' Abdallah was a son of the desert who spent his life in a search for the lucky shamrock. He had been taught that it was the most beautiful flower of Paradise. One leaf was red like copper, another white like silver, the third yellow like gold, and the fourth was a glittering diamond. When Adam and Eve were driven out of the garden, poor Eve reached out and clutched at a blossom to carry away with her. In her despair she did not notice what she plucked, but, as she pa.s.sed through the portal, curiosity made her open her hand to look at the flower she had s.n.a.t.c.hed. To her joy it was the shamrock. But while she looked, a gust of wind caught up the diamond leaf and blew it back within the gates, just as they closed behind her. The name of that leaf was Perfect Happiness. That is why men never find it in this world for all their searching. It is to be found only in Paradise.”
”Oh, but I don't believe that!” cried Lloyd. ”Lots and lots of times I have been perfectly happy, and I am suah that everybody must be at some time or anothah in this world.”
”Yes, but you didn't stay happy, did you?” asked Joyce, who had come back in time to hear part of the legend. ”We get glimpses of it now and then, as poor Eve did when she opened her hand, but part of it always flies away while we are looking at it. People can be contented all the time, and happy in a mild way, but n.o.body can be perfectly, radiantly happy all the time, day in and day out. The legend is right. It is only in Paradise that one can find the diamond leaf.”
”Joyce talks as if she were a hundred yeahs old,” laughed Lloyd, looking up at Doctor Bradford. ”Maybe there is some truth in yoah old Oriental legend, but I believe times have changed since Abdallah went a-hunting.
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