“Oh, pretty fair, Bean; just middling.” There was a pleased gleam in Jerry’s eyes, however, as she turned once more to the mirror.
She made a charming picture standing before it, looking taller and slimmer than was her wont in the straight beautiful lines of her ivory satin wedding gown with its garniture of pearls and rare old lace. The lace-trimmed court train, falling from the shoulders, the long tight sleeves and the V-shaped pearl-embroidered neck also served to heighten the stately effect of her costume.
“I shan’t put on my veil until the last minute,” she announced matter-of-factly. “Just let me tell you this, Bean, it’s a whole lot more trouble to dress for one’s own wedding than it is for some one else’s.”
Mindful of her snowy finery she sat down carefully on the edge of her bed and viewed Marjorie with a half abashed, half impish air. “How’s that for a sweetly sentimental thought to trot along to the altar?” she asked.
“It’s strictly a la Jeremiah, only you’ll forget it the instant you hear the wedding march.” A reminiscent gleam had appeared in Marjorie’s eyes.
“I guess you know what you are talking about.” Jerry fell into sudden silence. Apparently unsentimental Jerry was not lacking in either sentiment, or emotion. She was feeling deeply the tension of the moment, but was endeavoring to hide it, even from Marjorie. “I only hope I keep in step with it,” she added with a reflective air.
“In step with what?” Marjorie came suddenly out of her moment of dreaming.
“The wedding march, of course,” Jerry replied with a faint chuckle.
“Oh,” Marjorie had to laugh with her. She understood Jerry, and the way she was feeling, also the facetious effort her chum was making to conceal her real feelings.
“I never did like having a lot of fuss made over me.” Jerry rose and walked to a side table on which reposed her wedding bouquet of lilies of the valley and white orchids. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she said, lifting it up almost reverently. Her humorous expression had vanished into one of girlish seriousness.