And Robert, standing, in a deep voice answered: "Drusilla," borrowing quite unconsciously Suzanna's way of name, "Drusilla, I have taken upon myself this day the great responsibility of a woman's happiness—" he paused and bent a look of ineffable tenderness upon his wife—"and please God I shall keep that responsibility while life lasts."
And they all pushed back their chairs, the children with a little scraping noise. And Robert looking at his watch thought it was time to leave, since the train would not wait for laggards.
Then all in a moment it seemed he was going down the path again, his wife upon his arm. And Graham, who had disappeared kitchenward, returned and flung a handful of rice after them. At which the bride turned and laughed and waved her hand.
"It was a real wedding, wasn't it, Drusilla?" said Suzanna, "even to the rice."
"A real wedding, my little girl," said Drusilla.
Graham spoke: "Grandmother, aren't you glad I wheeled you out today?"
She answered at once. "So very glad, Graham. And I feel happier tonight than for many a long day."
"And may I do so again soon?" he asked. "And next summer I'll take you out every day."
A little smile touched her lips. "Next summer—next summer—? Ah, laddie, come often this winter, if you can."
And then the children started away. And at the last moment Drusilla drew Suzanna to her. "Little girl," she said lovingly, "I'm so glad you came once to visit me—that summer day."