“Oh, shucks! let the letters go!” cried the boy. “There's going to be stacks of fun, and lots of things to eat. There's chicken salad and lobster, and sandwiches, and ice-cream and cake, and coffee and cake, and—” The boy hesitated; then he spoke again in a whisper of triumph that had its meaning of pathos: “They are all paid for. I know, for I heard papa tell Major Arms. The carriages are paid for, too, and the florist is going to be paid.”
“That's good,” said Anderson.
“Yes, sir, so the things are sure to be there. They won't back out at the last minute, as they do sometimes. Awful mean, too. Say, you'd better come. Your mother can come, too. She likes ice-cream, don't she?”
Anderson said that he believed she did.
“Well, she'll be sure to get all she can eat,” said Eddy. “Tell her to come. I like your mother.” He clung closely to the man's arm and walked along the street with him, forgetting his post as guardian of the church. “You'll come, won't you?” he said.
“No. I shall be too busy, my son,” said Anderson, smiling; and finally Eddy retreated dissatisfied. When he went home an hour later he burst into the house with a question.
“Say,” he asked Charlotte, “I want to know if Mr. Anderson and his mother were asked to the wedding.”
Charlotte was hurrying through the hall with white and green ribbons flying around her, en route to trim the bay-window where the bridal couple were to stand to receive the guests. “Oh, Eddy, dear,” she cried, “I can't stop now; indeed I can't. I don't know who was invited and who not.”
“But, Charlotte,” Eddy persisted, “I want to know particularly. Please tell me, honey.”
Then Charlotte stopped and looked back over her great snarl of white and green ribbon. “Who did you say, dear?” she asked. “Hurry! I can't stop.”