“You mustn’t ask for praise. Just be nice and folks will praise you of their own accord,” Marjorie gave his arm a vigorous pinch.
“I see!” He appeared to ponder. “Pretty is as pretty does. I suppose that cruel pinch belongs with the advice.”
“It does. Want another?”
“No, thank you. One more and I shall balk. Then who will see you to the wedding?”
In this frolicsome strain the Deans set out for Gray Gables to see the beautiful culmination of a romance begun with Marjorie’s gift of a blue dress to a girl who had known little then of happiness.
As Constance had said to Marjorie, on the night of Jerry’s and Hal’s dance, only her near and dear ones were to be present at her marriage to Lawrence Armitage. This happy event was to take place at Gray Gables at eight o’clock that evening.
Due to the time of year, Constance had decided on a chrysanthemum wedding, these being her foster father, Mr. Stevens’, favorite flowers. Laurie held Mr. Stevens next to his own father in affection. He reverenced him as a master musician. Both he and Constance were glad to defer to his preference in this respect.
During the drive to Gray Gables, Marjorie found her mother’s hand and held it. She was feeling rather emotional in a very quiet fashion. Connie’s wedding was not yet quite a reality. Could it be that at eight o’clock that evening Connie was actually to be married? It seemed only yesterday that she and Constance were walking home from high school, grumbling over the length of next days’ French lesson.
Her captain understanding her sudden change of mood asked no questions, simply passed her free arm about Marjorie’s shoulders. Only the day before she had observed to her husband: “Here is our Constance on the eve of marriage. Marjorie is still nothing but a large child. Her ideas of love are very vague.”
“I am glad of it,” Mr. Dean had returned. “I hope her romance to come is still far distant.”