"She never opened her mouth," said the incorrigible Peggy, indicating herself, "excepting to put her foot into it."
"Hush, Peggy," said Ruth, whitening a little, "Mrs. Swift understands. Peggy regards this wedding as a sort of cross between a picnic and a visit to the dentist's."
"I certainly do," said Peggy, "only you don't have to have so many clothes on those occasions. I don't see why you can't just be married in what you've got. Well, anyway, that clambake is going to be a ray of light through the gloom. That's something we can enjoy without any mixture of our emotions."
"I shall have to come some day without Peggy," Ruth said, rising, "this time we were just going by to the post office and she dragged me in."
"She gets a letter every mail," Peggy explained, "and sometimes two a mail. If you think I've said awful things, Mrs. Swift, I'm sorry, but—but——"
"I assure you they are nothing to the things she could say," Ruth laughed. "I'm glad she has Elizabeth's restraining influence. I suppose the two are so different that that's the reason they get on so well."
"Elizabeth's a perfect lady," Peggy said.
Mrs. Swift stood at the window and watched the two girls go down the path, Ruth's pink linen and close-fitting white sweater outlining her extreme slenderness and her little feet set with a delicate deliberation as she moved.
"She is an apple-blossom girl," she said, thoughtfully, "poor Buddy!"
"Oh, Mother, Mother, Mother," Elizabeth wailed, flinging her arms around her, "isn't it perfectly terrible? I am so glad you are here. I don't believe I could have borne it another minute without you."