Theirs was a pretty wedding, although the wedding guests were only two, and they were not of the same rank in life as the handsome bridegroom and the beautiful bride, supported by her friends, and bridesmaid, dressed like herself in costly silk and lace. Doris was in white, and Alice in creamy yellow, whilst Bernard, of course, was in immaculate attire, his good-looking young face lit up with love and joy and thankfulness to God.
"Bless them! God bless them!" exclaimed good Mrs. Austin as the young couple left the vestry, where Doris had signed her maiden name for the last time.
"Amen," said Sam, "and may they live long happy years!"
Sam had only one regret about the wedding, and that was that he could not bring his cab down to be used on the occasion. "I should like to have driven them to church in it," he confided to his mother. "It would have been a sort of finish to the two rides I gave Miss Anderson in it. First when I drove her to Earl's Court Square, and then home to you when she was in such distress, and afterwards when I drove her round to see those skin-flinty old picture-dealers about selling her pictures."
But now the bride and bridegroom had to be met, congratulated, and wished all sorts of happiness.
"Thank you! Thank you!" said Doris, shaking hands with Sam, and lifting up her glad young face to kiss his mother, while Bernard shook hands warmly with them both, thanking them for himself and his bride.
Later in the day Alice drove with Bernard and Doris to the station to see them off in the train for Portsmouth, as they were going to the Isle of Wight for their honeymoon.
Doris clung to her a little at the last. "I don't know how to thank you, Alice," she said; "you have been like a dear sister to me."
"DORIS CLUNG TO HER AT THE LAST. 'YOU HAVE BEEN LIKE A DEAR SISTER TO ME.'"