Constance obediently complied. Marjorie lightly lifted the fairy-like bridal insignia and placed it upon her friend’s head.
“I am your fairy god-mother,” she said in a dramatic voice. “On your wedding night I come to bring you every known happiness. I place the chaplet of love upon your head and grant you a long, untroubled life.”
Both girls laughed at this bit of fancy, the oval mirror reflecting a charming picture as Marjorie carefully adjusted the veil over Connie’s golden curls.
Presently the floor clock in the room ticked off ten minutes to eight. Next Miss Allison entered with: “Are you ready, dear?”
“Yes, Auntie.” Constance rose and held out both hands to the woman whose great-heartedness had changed the current of her whole life. “I wish I could thank you for all you’ve done for me, Aunt Susan,” she said with wistful sincerity. “It is so beautiful to have this kind of wedding from the home you gave me and surrounded by my very best friends.”
“Nonsense, child,” declared Miss Allison with gentle energy. “Think of all you have given me to make me happy. Though I shall miss you more when you are in Europe, simply because you are farther away, I feel this to be a particularly wonderful ending of a Thanksgiving Day. Now I must leave you girls and go on down stairs. Be ready to descend on the first notes of the wedding march, Connie. Don’t keep your bridegroom waiting.” With this touch of humor she left them.
As Mr. Stevens, Uncle John Roland and little Charlie were detailed to give away the bride, Professor Harmon, Laurie’s old friend at Weston High School, and three members of the Sanford orchestra formerly directed by Mr. Stevens, had been invited to play the wedding music.
With the first dulcet strains of Mendelssohn’s immortal Wedding March, Constance began a slow descent of the staircase, followed by Marjorie. It seemed eminently fitting that Marjorie, who had so loyally stood by Constance through thick and thin, should now be making this short though momentous pilgrimage with her.
At the foot of the stairs, Laurie, looking handsomer than Marjorie had ever before seen him, awaited his bride. Hal, his boyhood friend, stood beside him. Marjorie flashed him a bright, friendly glance as the two of them fell in behind their chums and began the walk through the flowery aisle to the bank of chrysanthemums. There Mr. Armitage, Miss Allison, Uncle John, Mr. Stevens and Charlie awaited them. Laurie had wished matters thus arranged.
Gathered informally in the spacious room were the Lookouts of the original chapter, Miss Archer, Mr. La Salle, two or three Weston High School instructors whom Laurie had specially liked, a dozen or more of his high school comrades, two or three friends of his father’s, and his dead mother’s only sister. These made up the wedding guests. As the last telling strains of the wedding march died into that impressive silence which always immediately precedes the bridal ceremony, the company moved forward and formed a wide, worshiping circle about the wedding party. Then the rector of the Sanford Episcopal Church began the fine, old Episcopalian ring service.