Presently the door opened and quite a large party entered, and were led by the sexton to the front row of pews before the chancel.
“It’s the bowld Col. Moseley and his tribe, sure,” said Mike in a low voice to his companions.
Dandy looked up.
It was the tribe, indeed. The colonel, his wife and ten of his girls and boys. The two youngest children had been left at home on account of their tender age. The colonel’s wife wore her Sunday suit of brown satin, with a brown velvet bonnet and a rich old India shawl that had been an heirloom in her family, having come down to her from her great-grandmother. Her many daughters wore plain cardinal-red or navy-blue dresses, with plush coats and felt hats to match.
Next entered a single pair, unknown to Longman and Dandy, but not to us. They were Mr. and Mrs. Cleve Stuart. Palma wore her lovely suit of navy-blue demassée velvet, with turban to match.
They were provided with seats to the left of the Moseleys.
A few minutes after them came a lady alone. She was Mrs. Duncan, in a plum-colored satin dress and a sealskin coat and cap.
Finally, just as the organ began to peal forth a magnificent wedding march, streamed in two processions from two opposite points.
First, out from the vestry door came two white-robed clergymen, with open books in their hands, followed by the bridegroom, in evening dress, with a white rose in his buttonhole.
“Ah, thin, see till our broth av a b’hoy! Sure, don’t his face shine like the morning starr itself?” whispered Dandy to his companion.