“Ellen! Was ever anything so crazy! I did suppose Red would take time enough to be married in. There's everybody coming.”
“So few you can easily telephone them all to wait.”
“And the breakfast under way—”
“It will keep.”
“Aren't you superstitious enough not to want to postpone your wedding?” demanded Martha urgently.
The dark braids of hair swung violently as the bride's head was emphatically shaken. “Martha! Take it back! Let somebody die because I was afraid to wait two hours?”
“I don't believe anybody would die,” insisted Martha. “Somebody could be found. It's just Red's ridiculous craze for surgery. I always said he'd rather operate than eat. Now, it seems he'd rather operate than be—”
But at this moment a large, determined hand came over her mouth from behind, as James Macauley, junior, arriving upon the scene, asserted his authority. He was in bathrobe and slippers, having been excitedly interviewed by Chester through the bathroom door.
“Quit fussing, Marty. The thing can't be helped, and if Ellen doesn't mind I don't know why we should. If we were having a houseful it would be fierce, but with only ourselves and the Chesters and the minister's family and Red's people—I'll go telephone Mr. Harding now.”
As Martha freed herself from the silencing hand the front door opened again. This time it was Mrs. Richard Warburton—Burns's young sister Anne—also in somewhat informal attire, over which she had thrown an evening coat. She surveyed the group with laughing eyes. She herself had been married within the year.