“I don’t know about you, pa,” said Mrs. Marksby, bridling visibly.
“Oh, I don’t say but that you might have done better,” said Mr. Marksby, “but we were very happy in that little house, and I only hope that the young people will be as happy in their beginning as we were in ours.”
“We shall not be less happy because we are able to afford a decent house in the West End,” said Harry, sensibly. “If we are, you may take it as certain that we should have been just as unhappy in the cottage with three bedrooms. But, I say, Mrs. Whittaker, isn’t Maudie nearly ready? We sha’n’t catch that train if we don’t look out. Ah, here she is. Come along, my dear girl, come along; we’ve got none too much time to spare.”
Perhaps it was as well. There was a moment’s hesitation as Maudie said “good-bye” to her mother; for one instant, Julia standing by, vigilant and keen, feared that her mother was going to break down in spite of all her good resolves. But Mrs. Whittaker was a valiant soul; she pulled herself up sharply as the little bride, holding her father’s hand, went out to face the storm of rice and old slippers which was awaiting them outside the house.
“I know,” she said, her voice a little tremulous in spite of her self-control, “I know she will make a good wife, because she has been such a good daughter.”
“We can cry quits, Mrs. Whittaker,” said the mother of the bridegroom, “for a better boy to his father and mother than our Harry I don’t believe you could find from one end of the earth to the other.”