The right to boss is conceded to the expert. It is also sometimes extended to members of the family who are for the time being in the centre of the stage. At such times you are permitted to dictate—when you are to have a guest, for instance, or when you are about to be married. For a day or two before the wedding, your wish is law. You really need to stay on hand until the last minute, however, to enforce the letter of the law to the end. Otherwise, circumstances may get ahead of you.
Geoffrey, for example, directly after announcing his engagement to our best friend Priscilla Sherwood, enjoyed a time of perfect power. He knew that he needed only to say, “Priscilla likes so and so,” and so and so would follow. Barbara and I reminded him that we knew Priscilla better than he did, but we could not say that we were engaged to her. Just before the wedding, Geoffrey took us aside to explain seriously about his plans, and to give us our orders for the day.
“We don't want you to throw anything,” said Geoffrey reasonably. “No rice or confetti or shoes. And you needn't even see us to the train. Priscilla doesn't care about any demonstration, and I think it would be just as well to go off quietly. We'd just as soon the other people on the train didn't know we were a bride and groom.”
Barbara and I, struck with the originality of this point of view, promised to throw nothing. Priscilla, meanwhile, reasoned equally well with her brothers. After the wedding, we all stood cordially on the curbstone and let them drive off to the train. Then, deserted, the two families confronted each other rather blankly.
“It doesn't seem as if they had actually gone, does it?” said Barbara uneasily.
“They wouldn't mind if we waved to them when the train goes out, would they?” began one of the Sherwoods tentatively.
Barbara was inspired. “Come on down to our house,” said she, “and then they can see us from the train.”
One of the advantages of a home near the railway is the fact that you can see your friends off on trips without leaving your dooryard. Each man for himself, we went streaming down the last hill, fearing at any minute to hear the train pull out. To our dismay, we saw that a long freight-train was standing on the siding in such a position as to cut off our view of the express.
“When you are on the train,” I panted as I ran, “you can see our upstairs windows even when freight-cars are in the way.”
“We'll wave out of the front windows,” said Barbara, and we all rushed upstairs.