It is sometimes one's ill-luck to misspell a word, and though a wedding-cake is usually large and this was no exception, the space was limited, and, besides, no one but Sam senior and Miss Lang noticed it anyhow.
A quizzical light in his eye, Mr. Slawson scrawled on a scrap of paper which he passed to Claire (with apologies for the liberty) the words:
"She'd been nearer the truth if she'd left out the two _rr_s while she was about it, and had it:
FIFTEEN YEARS OF MA'D LIFE."
Then came Cora's piece.
Her courtesy, right foot back, knees suddenly bent, right hand on left side (presumably over heart, actually over stomach), chin diving into the bony hollow of her neck—Cora's courtesy was a thing to be remembered.
LADY CLARE
She announced it with ceremony, and this time, Martha noticed, the recalcitrant garter held fast to its moorings.
"''Twas the time when lilies blow
And clouds are highest up in air,
Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe—'"
"His!" prompted Martha in a loud stage-whisper. "His—not 'a'—"