Larry got along all right as far as taking the name of the bride, that of the groom, the officiating minister, and the attendants at the wedding ceremony was concerned. But when he came to take notes of the kinds of material in the dresses and the styles, he found himself helplessly at sea.
“The bride’s dress was cut en traine,” said Mrs. Loftus, the mother of the young woman who had been married.
“I didn’t catch that about her dress being cut by a train,” said Larry.
Mrs. Loftus laughed.
“Oh, you poor boy!” she exclaimed. “It’s a shame to send you after a wedding. They ought to have a woman to describe the dresses. I don’t wonder things get in the paper wrong. Who could expect a man to tell about a woman’s dress? But I’ll explain it to you.”
Then she kindly initiated Larry into the mysteries of the feminine styles. She told him en traine meant that the dress had what old-fashioned persons called a “long trail,” which swept on the ground. She also told him how to spell such words as “mousselaine,” “peau de soie,” “crêpe de Chine,” and other terms that described the different materials.
With her help Larry did not make out so badly as he feared he would at first, but he was glad when he had all the facts, and could go back to the office to write them up. On his way out he saw Clarice peering over the balustrade at him.
“Good-by, Reporter!” she called, with a merry laugh, and Larry, though not knowing exactly what to make of her questions, thought she was one of the nicest girls he had ever seen.
He managed to turn out an account of the wedding, though it was not a very good one in his estimation. But Mr. Emberg did not seem to be very particular about it.
“Hurry through with that, Larry,” he said. “I have something else for you.”