"Here's the preacher. You'd best come on out."
"Hish, William!" commanded his wife, on the other side of the keyhole. "She'll come out when I say so. He's a caution," she continued, straightening up, and looking at the drooping bride as though her brother's untoward conduct were all her fault. Miss Arabella drooped farther. She slipped her arm inside her bridesmaid's.
"Elsie, if anybody else comes, don't—don't let them tell me," she whispered piteously. "It makes me feel awful!"
The bridesmaid took her hand and patted it soothingly. "I won't," she promised cheerily. "Don't listen to a word any one says. I'll tell you when it's time to go out, and there's nothing to be afraid of. Why, you look just lovely! And think how proud Martin will be! You mustn't get nervous, for his sake, you know."
"Arabella!" The keyhole once more gave forth a hissing whisper. "We've all been waiting half an hour."
Mrs. Winters tightened her teeth. "He'll spoil everything!" she declared. "It's awful old-fashioned for the bride to be on time, but you can't knock that into William's head. You might as well go, Arabella; and for pity's sakes, stand up straight, an' don't look so scared!"
She pushed the trembling little blue figure toward the door. "Elsie, you go first, and walk slow; no—wait! Bella, open the door and nod to Cousin Martha to start playin'."
Bella's head shot out and in, the door slammed again, and there arose from the other side of it faint, squeaky sounds from the organ.
"Goodness me! you can hardly hear her!" cried Mrs. Winters. "I told Christena Martha'd spoil it! My sakes! I wish Ella Anne Long hadn't run away so soon! Now open the door, Bella, awful slow. Now, Elsie, go on. Arabella, hang on to your flowers! It's a perfect shame your brother ain't with you! For goodness' sake, stand up straight, an' don't look as if you was goin' to be hung! Go on, Elsie!"
But the bride was clinging desperately to her maid's arm, and refused to let her go. "I—I can't go, Susan!" she whispered.