"Mother and sisters, relatives and friends, my wife and I will be pleased to have you come with us to our new home, and help eat our wedding breakfast."
Everybody buzzed with surprise, and looked for explanation to every one else; but no one seemed to know more than another, even Bea, blushing like a rose, as she put on her new hat, looked as surprised as anybody. So there was nothing to be done but wait for some revelation.
The walk from the old home to the new, was very short, and as the gay party took it in the warm sunshine, every one on the way called, or smiled their congratulations to the pretty bride who walked with Uncle Ridley, while the young husband followed with his new-made mother. When they came in sight of the little cottage, there was smoke coming gayly from the kitchen chimney, and the front door stood widely open.
"What is it?" whispered Kittie, in a spasm of curiosity.
"A breakfast already for them," answered Olive. "Dr. Barnett has got Huldah, and Bea doesn't know it."
Well, dear me, what a jolly confusion did follow. Bea was too much overcome to welcome any one to her new home, and nearly gave way to tears when Huldah was seen bowing ecstatically in the back-ground, and saying over and over: "Welcome home, Mrs. Barnett, how-dy-do?"
"This is where Uncle Ridley and Olive were last night," cried Jean excitedly, throwing open the parlor door, and pushing Mrs. Barnett in. "Just look!"
Bea tried to speak, but couldn't, and threw her arms about Mr. Congreve's neck, while everybody else "oh'd" and "ah'd" about the parlor door. For wasn't it furnished with three of the most beautiful easy chairs, a tiny lounge, two spidery-legged tables, with gilded chains—and—oh!—a piano! A shiny, beautiful upright piano, with a blue velvet stool.
"I didn't do it all, Olive did half," cried Mr. Congreve the first chance he had of making himself heard above the babel of admiration and gratitude; whereupon Olive put in a hasty denial. She hadn't done a thing but come over and arrange. Everything was from Uncle Ridley except the silver vase and bracket, between the windows.
"Well, you've seen it now, that'll do. I was invited here to breakfast, and I'd like to have it," cried the old gentleman, in a testy voice, which the good-natured gleam in his sharp eyes denied. So everybody pranced into the dining-room, and Bea was placed behind the coffee-urn, and couldn't do a thing but blush, and look too happy and overcome to attend to her duties.