And it is a fact that they all walked out of the still-room headed by Mr. Atterton humming the wedding march in a sort of hoarse, crowing bellow; and Sims brought up the rear with a jelly in his hand and tears of laughter rolling down his purple cheeks, while he tried to look as if nothing unusual were happening.
“You can never,” said Mrs. Atterton breathlessly, suddenly remembering her back, “you can never wonder again why Bill is so idiotic. It’s hereditary. He can’t help it.”
“Andy—make Elizabeth have some of that pink stuff. She has eaten nothing for ages. But she won’t ‘want to willow’ now. A parson’s wife should look solid,” called Bill across the table.
Everybody laughed and sat down, while Andy cut off the top of the pink tower; and as he brought the plate to Elizabeth it seemed just the lovely beginning of all the ways in which he meant to serve her throughout their lives. Their fingers touched as she took it from him, and their deep happiness made them grave for a moment.
Then Mrs. Atterton said comfortably—
“After all, it will be great fun getting the furniture.”
“Yes, we’ll all go up to London and help to choose,” concluded Bill. “What fun!”
So there was another jolly side of it, and Mrs. Atterton felt almost consoled for the loss of the Stamfords’ heirlooms by the thought of buying furniture for Elizabeth’s new home.
“But what is to become of Flitterkins?” said Bill. “The lady with the roving eye—you won’t want her?”
“We might find Mrs. Jebb a post,” said Mr. Atterton.