Mr. Fairfield laughed good-humouredly, and replied that he was quite satisfied to be left out of the mad rush, until the real occasion came.
Like Nan, Mr. Fairfield would have preferred a quiet wedding, but Mrs. Allen utterly refused to hear of such a thing. Nan was her only daughter, and this her only chance to arrange an entertainment such as her soul delighted in. Mr. Allen was willing to indulge his wife in her wishes, and was exceedingly hospitable by nature. Moreover, he took great pride in his charming daughter, and wanted everything done that could in any way contribute to the success or add to the beauty of her wedding celebration.
Patty fluttered around the house in a sort of inconsequent delight. Now in the present-room, looking over the beautiful collection, now chatting with her cousins, or other friends, now strolling through the great parlours with their wonderful decorations of banked roses and garland-draped ceilings.
Dinner was early that night, as the ceremony was to be performed at eight o’clock, and after dinner Patty flew to her room to don her own beautiful new gown.
This dress delighted Patty’s beauty-loving heart. It was a white tulle sprinkled with silver, and its soft, dainty glitter seemed to Patty like moonlight on the snow. Her hair was done low on her neck, in a most becoming fashion, and her only ornament was a necklace of pearls which had belonged to her mother, and which her father had given her that very day. The first Mrs. Fairfield had died when Patty was a mere baby, so of course she had no recollection of her, but she had always idealised the personality of her mother, and she took the beautiful pearls from her father with almost a feeling of reverence as she touched them.
“I’m so glad it’s Nan you’re going to marry, Papa,” she said. “I wouldn’t like it as well if it were somebody who would really try to be a stepmother to me, but dear old Nan is more like a sister, and I’m so glad she’s ours.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased, Patty, dear, and I only hope Nan will never regret marrying a man so much older than herself.”
“You’re not old, Papa Fairfield,” cried Patty indignantly; “I won’t have you say such a thing! Why, you’re not forty yet, and Nan is twenty-four. Why, that’s hardly any difference at all.”
“So Nan says,” said Mr. Fairfield, smiling, “so I dare say my arithmetic’s at fault.”
“Of course it is,” said Patty, “and you don’t look a bit old either. Why, you look as young as Mr. Hepworth, and he looks nearly as young as Kenneth, and Kenneth’s only two years older than I am.”