Part 18 (2/2)
”Something that Betty doesn't believe in,” began Rob, ”just as I don't believe in dreams. Why wouldn't Bernice come with you?”
”She said she had so much to do. Mistah Shelby is coming out latah. He is going to take her to Sylvia's wedding to-night.”
”Speaking of warnings,” burst out Rob, impulsively, ”I'm going to give you one, Lloyd, whether you like it or not. Don't be too smiling and gracious when you meet Alex Shelby, or Bernice will be a.s.saulting you for poaching on her preserves. You must keep out of her bailiwick if you want to keep her friends.h.i.+p. It's the kind that won't stand much of a strain.”
”What do you mean, Rob Moore?” demanded Lloyd, hesitating between a laugh and the old feeling of anger that always flashed up when he referred to girls' friends.h.i.+ps in that superior tone.
”I am devoted to Bernice and she is to me. If you are trying to pick a quarrel you may as well go along home, for I'm positively not going to fuss with you about anything whatsoevah until aftah all the company is gone.”
”No'm! I don't want to quarrel,” responded Rob, with exaggerated meekness. ”I was merely giving you a warning--sort of playing Banshee for your benefit, but you don't seem to appreciate my efforts. Let's talk about watermelons.”
CHAPTER XIV.
A SECOND MAID OF HONOR
It was a new experience to Miles Bradford, this trudging through the dense beech woods on a summer night behind a row of flickering lanterns.
The path they followed was a wide one, and well worn by the feet of churchgoing negroes, for it was the shortest cut between the Valley and Stumptown, a little group of cabins cl.u.s.tered around the colored church.
Ra.n.a.ld led the way with a brakeman's lantern, and Rob occasionally illuminated the scene by electric flashes from the head of the walking-stick he was flouris.h.i.+ng. A varied string of fiery dragons, winged fish, and heathen hobgoblins danced along beside them, for Kitty was putting candles in a row of j.a.panese lanterns when they arrived at The Beeches, and nearly everybody in the party accepted her invitation to take one. Mary chose a sea-serpent with a grinning face, and Elise a pretty oval one with birds and cherry blossoms on each side. Lloyd did not take any. Her hands were already filled with a huge bouquet of red roses.
”Sylvia asked me to carry these,” she explained to Miles Bradford, ”and to weah a white dress and this hat with the red roses on it. Because I was maid of honah at Eugenia's wedding she seems to think I can reflect some sawt of glory on hers. She said she wanted all her young ladies to weah white.”
”Who are her young ladies, and why?” he asked.
”Allison, Kitty, Betty, and I. You see, Sylvia's grandfathah was the MacIntyre's coachman befoah the wah, and her mothah is our old Aunt Cindy. She considahs that she belongs to us and we belong to her.”
Farther down the line they could hear Katie Mallard's cheerful giggle as she tripped over a beech root, then Bernice Howe's laugh as they all went slipping and sliding down a steep place in the path which led to the hollow crossed by the dry creek bed.
”Sing!” called Miss Allison, who was chaperoning the party, and picking her way behind the others with Mary and Elise each clinging to an arm.
”There's such a pretty echo down in this hollow. Listen!” The tune that she started was one of the popular songs of the summer. It was caught up by every one in the procession except Miles Bradford, and he kept silent in order to enjoy this novel pilgrimage to the fullest. The dark woods rang with the sweet chorus, and the long line of fantastic lanterns sent weird shadows bobbing up in their wake.
The bare, unpainted little church had just been lighted when they arrived, and a strong smell of coal-oil and smoking wicks greeted them.
”It's too bad we are so early,” said Miss Allison. ”Sylvia would have preferred us to come in with grand effect at the last moment, but I'm too tired to wait for the bridal party. Let's put our lanterns in the vestibule and go in and find seats.”
A pompous mulatto man in white cotton gloves and with a cl.u.s.ter of tuberoses in his b.u.t.tonhole ushered the party down the aisle to the seats of honor reserved for the white folks. There were seventeen in the party, too many to sit comfortably on the two benches, so a chair was brought for Miss Allison. After the grown people were seated, each of the little girls managed to squeeze in at the end of the seats nearest the aisle. Lloyd found herself seated between Mary Ware and Alex Shelby. Leaning forward to look along the bench, she found that Bernice came next in order to Alex, then Lieutenant Stanley and Allison, Doctor Bradford and Betty.
She had merely said good evening to Alex Shelby when they met at The Beeches, and, although positions in the procession through the woods had s.h.i.+fted constantly, it had happened she had not been near enough to talk with him. Now, with only Mary Ware to claim her attention, they naturally fell into conversation. It was only in whispers, for the audience was a.s.sembling rapidly, and the usher had opened the organ in token that the service was about to begin.
There had been an attempt to decorate for the occasion. Friends of the bride had resurrected both the Christmas and Easter mottoes, so that the wall behind the pulpit bore in tall, white cotton letters, on a background of cedar, the words, ”Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men.”
Fresh cedar had been subst.i.tuted for the yellowed branches left over from the previous Christmas, and fresh diamond dust sprinkled over the grimy cotton to give it its pristine sparkle of Yule-tide frost.
”An appropriate motto for a wedding,” whispered Alex Shelby to Lloyd.
Only his eyes laughed. His face was as solemn as the usher's own as he turned to gaze at the word ”Welcome” over the door, and the fringe of paper Easter lilies draping the top of each uncurtained window.
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