He always was a
small-built man, and with her long trail and her veil spreadin' out so,
why, I declare, you couldn't hardly see him.
I whispered to John that they looked more as if Eleanor was goin' to
give her pa away than him her.
Eleanor's dress was elegant, only awful _plain_. It was made in New York
at Greenleaf's. I know, because when I was upstairs lookin' for my
sunshade--I told you about that, didn't I?--I happened to get into
Eleanor's room by mistake, and there was the box it came in right on the
bed before my eyes.
Well, when they was all past, I kept lookin' round me for the groom and
wonderin' how I had come to miss him, when all at once John nudged me,
and there he was right in front of me and the minister beginnin' to
marry 'em, and where he had sprung from I can't tell you this livin'
minute!
Came in from the vestry, did he? Well, now, I never would have thought
of that!
Well, when they was most married the most ridiculous thing happened.
You see, Eleanor's father in steppin' back after givin' her away had put
his foot right down on her trail and never noticed, and when it came
time for the prayer Eleanor pulled and pulled--they was to kneel down on
two big white satin cushions in front of 'em--but her pa never
budged--just stood there with his eyes shut and his head bowed as
devout as anything--and before Eleanor could stop him, her husband--he
was most her husband, anyway--had kneeled right down on to the cushion,
with his eyes shut, too, I suppose, and the minister had to pray over
'em that way.
Pages:
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204