“I certainly do want to help all I can,” said this lady. “You say you are going to have ice-cream. Are you going to buy it or make it?”
“I shall have to buy it,” Ellen told her, “for in the first place I don’t know how to make it, and then we haven’t such a thing as a freezer.”
Mrs. Hale considered the matter for a moment. “I tell you what you can do,” she said. “Make it over here. Lucilena makes fine ice-cream, and she’d love to help. We have a great big freezer which can be kept here and taken over when you’re ready for it. I’ll order the ice and things for you, and that will let you out of that much trouble.”
“How good you are,” cried Ellen gratefully. “Every one is so kind.”
“It’s mighty little to do for Miss Rindy,” declared Mrs. Hale. “She’s always doing something for the rest of us, but never lets us do anything for her. I shall never forget how good she was to us when Billy had diphtheria. I believe she saved his life. Oh, no, you mustn’t think it counts for anything to do this little bit.”
Having made all her arrangements for the party, Ellen next turned her attention to her music for the wedding. It was an ordeal, but she meant to meet it bravely, and so she did. It was a noon affair, but not a stylish one. The bride was a simple little country girl, the bridegroom a young farmer, but a church wedding they must have, flowers on the altar and the conventional music. Ellen acquitted herself creditably, saw the bridal party depart amid showers of rice, and passed out to be clasped by Caro.
“Oh, Ellen,” cried this devoted friend, “I was so thrilled. To think it was you playing the wedding march! Now, I want you to promise on your sacred word of honor that you will play for me when I get married.”
“Isn’t it a little early to plan for that?” inquired Ellen laughing.
“Well, maybe it is,” returned Caro with perfect seriousness, “but I want to be sure of you.”
“Evidently you think I’m a slippery sort of person,” returned Ellen teasingly.