The Arm-Chair at the Inn

by Francis Hopkinson Smith

“Oh!—I am so happy! You heard what he said—all of you. You, Monsieur Herbert—and you—and you”—pointing to each member of our group. “If he were a head gardener! Oh, was there ever such luck! And do you listen too, you magnificent Lemois! Gaston is a head gardener; has been a head gardener for days; every one of the plants you bought for me to-day he will put into the ground with his own hands. His mother will have the stall I bought in the fish market, and he and Mignon are to live in the new garage, and he is to have charge of the villa grounds, and she is to manage the dairy and the linen and look after the chickens and the ducks. And the wedding is to take place just as soon as you give your consent; and if you don’t consent, it will take place anyway, for I am to be godmother and she is to have a dot and all the furniture they want out of what was saved from my house, and that’s all there is to it—except that both of them know all about it, for I sent Gaston down here last night with a note for you, and he told Mignon, and it’s all settled—now what do you say?”

A shout greeted her last words, and the whole room broke spontaneously into a clapping of hands, Louis, as was his invariable custom whenever excuse offered, on his feet, glass in hand, proposing the health of that most adorable of all women of her own or any other time, past, present, or future—at which the dear, penguin-shaped lady in black velvet and lace raised her dainty white palms in holy horror, protesting that it was Monsieur Lemois whose health must be drunk, as without him nothing could have been done, the clear tones of her voice rising like a bird’s song above the others as she sprang forward, grasped Lemois’ hand and lifted him to his feet, the whole room once more applauding.

Yes, it was a great moment! Mignon’s happiness was very dear to us, but that which captured us completely was the daring and cleverness of the little woman who had worked for it, and who was so joyous over her success and so childishly enthusiastic at the outcome.

Lemois, unable to stem the flood of rejoicing, seemed to have surrendered and given up the fight, complimenting the marquise upon her diplomacy, and the way in which she had entirely outgeneralled an old fellow who was not up to the wiles of the world. “Such a mean advantage, madame, to take of a poor old man,” he continued, bowing low, a curious, unreadable expression crossing his face. “I am, as you know, but clay in your hands, as are all the others who are honored by your acquaintance. But now that I am tied to your chariot wheels, I must of course take part in your triumphal procession; so permit me to make a few suggestions.”

The marquise laughed gently, but with a puzzled look in her eyes. She was not sure what he was driving at, but she did not interrupt him.

“We will have an old-time wedding,” he continued gayly, with a comprehensive wave of his hand as if he were arranging the stage setting—“something quite in keeping with the general sentiment; for certain it is that not since the days when fair ladies let themselves down from castle walls into the arms of their plumed knights, only to dash away into space on milk-white steeds, will there be anything quite so romantic as this child-wedding!”

“And so you mean to have a rope ladder, do you, and let my——”

“Oh, no, madame la marquise,” he interrupted—“nothing so ordinary! We”—here he began rubbing his hands together quite as if he was ordering a dinner for an epicure—“we will have a revival of all the old customs just as they were in this very place. Our bride will join her lord in a cabriolet, and our groom will come on horseback—all fishermen ride, you know—and so will the other fishermen and maids—each gallant with a fair lady seated behind him on the crupper, her arms about his waist. Then we will have trumpeters and a garter man——”

“A what!” She was still at sea as to his meaning, although she had not missed the tone of irony in his voice.

“A man, madame, whose duty is to secure one of the bride’s garters. Oh, you need not start—that is quite simply arranged. The old-time brides always carried an extra pair to save themselves embarrassment. The one for the garter-man will be trimmed with ribbons which he will cut off and distribute to the other would-be brides, who will keep them in their prayer-books.”