Pam and Jack received the company. It was not etiquette that Sophy should be seen as yet, so she remained upstairs, feeling rather out of it, if the truth be told, and wondering what all the laughter was about down below. By peeping from the big empty room which was next to their bedroom she could get glimpses of wagons driving up to the house, filled with people, and every minute the laughter and the fun downstairs grew louder and merrier.
“What a time they are having!” she murmured, then she paced the room restlessly, her little high-heeled shoes making a fitful tapping on the bare floor as she walked. Of course it was lovely to be the bride, the person of most consequence in the crowd, the one to whom all the others were looking; but she realized that the others had their compensations, and that there was a large amount of fun to be got in the hard work of organizing and carrying the festivity through.
Then a hush fell on the place, and the house grew suddenly quiet. Sophy began to tremble then, for she realized that the minister had come, and she guessed that she would soon hear Pam’s foot on the stairs. It was Pam who was coming to fetch her. Pam had to act in a good many rôles that day. She was bridesmaid, she was hostess, and she had to mother the poor fluttering little bride as well. These manifold interests left her with no time to think of herself; she had scarcely a moment either to think of her grandfather, or to wonder what sort of a scene there would be if he chose this moment for his return to his home.
A light run of feet up the stairs, then the door flew open, and Pam burst into the room.
“Oh, you are lovely!” she cried, with positive awe in her voice. “My dear, I never realized before what a beautiful face you have; it has always been the beauty of your character that has appealed to me. Come, it is time, and the clergyman is waiting!”
All Sophy’s impatience and restlessness dropped from her as if it had never been. She rose slowly, and without a word she put her hand in that of Pam, then went with her down to the crowded sitting-room, where the bridegroom awaited her coming. The silence was so profound that the tapping of Sophy’s heels sounded quite loud as she crossed the kitchen and entered the sitting-room, where her father came forward to lead her on to the bright-hued carpet. A bobolink was singing in the tree outside, and the sunshine filtered in through the elegant pair of white lace curtains which Mrs. Luke Dobson of Hunt’s Crossing had lent to adorn the window.
A low murmur of approval swept round the crowded room as the bride walked forward to take her stand on the carpet. It was doubtful whether Sophy heard it, for the full solemnity of what she was doing was on her now, with the exaltation of a great happiness. It was Pam who heard it, and to her it was like sweet music, for she knew that she had succeeded in her undertaking, and that Sophy’s wedding, regarded from the standpoint of a social function, was all that it should be.
It was a very novel sight to Pam, and it upset all her previous notions of what weddings were like. She had been a spectator at several weddings in London churches, but this was quite different, and in some peculiar fashion immeasurably more solemn. In fact, before the ceremony was over she was shaking and shivering, and telling herself that matrimony was such a terrible responsibility that she would never dare to face it on her own account. The old dog poked its head in at the open door, but seeing the number of people gathered in serious state, the creature backed out and fled. It had in a measure got used to seeing people, but a number of persons gathered in one place always seemed to upset its nerves.
When the benediction was pronounced, there was a stir and a movement; everyone wanted to crowd about the bride, to congratulate her. But Pam fled to the out-place where the kettles had been set to boil on the cracked stove. She was responsible for the coffee-making, and she knew that the wedding feast must begin directly the register had been signed, for those of the guests who had come long distances would be greatly in need of refreshment, and she was not minded to fall short in her duties as hostess.
Amanda Higgins had been entrusted with the task of looking after matters in this direction, but she was rather a feather-headed young person, and all thought of the kettles and the fire went out of her head directly she heard the tap-tapping of Sophy’s heels on the stairs. She had rushed to see the bride, and getting squeezed into a corner of the sitting-room whence it was not easy to escape, she had stayed there, revelling in the show, while the fire had died down for want of attention, and the kettles were scarcely warm.