When the meal was over, the young people—with the exception of the betrothed pair, who were away somewhere mooning by themselves—returned to the parlor, to discuss the duties and pleasures of the day.
“We must decorate the drawing room,” said Wynnette. “No, Messrs. Grandiere and Bayard, you are not to go to the capitol, or the departments, or to the White House, or to the patent office, or to the Smithsonian, or to the arsenal, or to the Navy Yard, or to the United States jail, or to the National Insane Asylum—that, I think, includes ‘the whole unbounded continent’—nor to any other public institution; no, nor on any other sightseeing expedition. You are just to get a Washington directory for your guide, and you are to make the round of all the conservatories in the city, and you are to bring us loads and loads and loads of the very best flowers to be had, and you are to order a marriage bell in orange flowers, with ropes of orange flowers, and you are to order——Take out your tablets, if you have any; if not, tear the margin off the morning paper, and make a memorandum, for I know the weakness of your minds and memories. Now, then you are to order the most æsthetic bouquet in the world for the bride, and you are to order nine of the next most utterly utter for the bridesmaids—for the Lord forbid that the bridesmaids’ bouquets should be equal to that of the bride!”
“Ten bouquets! Nine bridesmaids, you say! Why, I thought—I thought—this was to be a private wedding,” said Roland Bayard, driving his fingers through his red hair.
“And so it is, my dear. We are a very small company of family friends, and that is the very reason why every man-jack and woman-jenny in the company must be an officer. Like the village militia, don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t see, and I don’t understand.”
“Well, then, to come down to the level of your poor little wits, here are ten of us girls—Odalite, Wynnette, Elva, Rosemary, Melina, Erina, Sophy, Nanny, Polly and Peggy. Only one of us—Odalite, to wit—can be the bride, or the captain, say, but all the rest of us mean to be bridesmaids or officers, say!”
“Ah! And where are your rank and file?”
“Oh, the outside world, who are not invited to this entertainment. The officers must not be too familiar with the privates. And we are going to have an exclusive jollification. And now I hope you understand. And you had better be off at once, because we want all the flowers delivered by noon. And don’t attempt to go anywhere or do anything until you have executed this order,” said Wynnette, in conclusion.
Roland Bayard and the two Grandieres walked off.
Then little Elva whispered to her sister: