The conversation grew general again, and Marjorie forgot the tea-room temporarily in the gaiety that followed. The rest of the evening was given to dancing; but when the girls separated they reminded each other that their next meeting would be of a very different nature—the solemnization of the marriage ceremony in Doris’s church.
As this was the first wedding among any of her own friends, it was Marjorie’s first opportunity to be a bridesmaid. She kept telling herself that she was not an important person, that no one in the congregation would have eyes for anyone but the bride; yet, as she preceded Marie Louise and Doris down the aisle, she was trembling so that she could hardly walk. She wondered how it would feel to be the bride, to exchange those solemn promises with a man who had once been only a casual acquaintance. She glanced surreptitiously at Doris out of the corner of her eye, but the girl seemed calm and absolutely at her ease; evidently her great happiness had wiped away all her former nervousness.
Marjorie breathed a sigh of relief when the ceremony was finally over, when they had all reached the seclusion of the vestry-room once more, and everybody was kissing and congratulating Doris at once. She was glad too to find the ensuing reception informal; indeed it seemed more like a delightful party at which all her old friends were present than the stately occasion she had been dreading. Doris, too, laughed and talked a great deal, and even made a pretense at eating.
“The really exciting thing,” she said to Marjorie, in an interval after supper, before the dancing began, “is to see who catches my bouquet. I hope it is one of our old bunch.”
“Now, Doris,” remonstrated Marjorie; “we don’t want too many of our girls to get married.”
“Oh, I do!” laughed Doris. “Now, I’m going to stand over the railing and throw it. Please ask Jack to tell everybody to be ready.”
A mad scramble among the girls followed Jack Wilkinson’s announcement, as, almost like children, they crowded about the hall. Doris stood on the stairs, and, closing her eyes, tossed the beautiful bouquet out over the banister. The girls all raised their arms expectantly, but it was Mae Van Horn who grasped it in her outstretched hands. A great shout arose from all the spectators.
“So you’re next!” cried Lily, rapturously. “I’m so glad!” Then, squeezing Marjorie’s arm, she whispered, delightedly, “I so didn’t want it to be you! And as you walked down the aisle on John Hadley’s arm, everybody was making guesses!”
“Oh, Lil!” laughed her chum. “You needn’t worry. The flowers are lovely—but I don’t want them that badly!”