It was a large wedding, for all Buford was invited, with many of Alex.’s acquaintances from New York. Among the guests were Nos. 2, 3 and 4,—“treated just as good as anybody,” Polly said, when discussing the affair with her friends. “Say,” she whispered to Sherry, when presented to her by an usher, “say, be you going to Maplehurst next summer?”
“Perhaps,” Sherry answered, and Polly continued, “Well, remember me, will you, and let me wait on your table; but for pity’s sake don’t have that old cat Groves there! If you do, excuse me!”
She curtesied and passed on to make room for others. Mrs. Groves had not been included in the list of guests, and she gnashed her teeth when she heard of the grand wedding and who were there.
“Evidently my connection with the Marshes is ended,” she said, “and I working like a slave to please them! I call that the basest ingratitude, and all on account of that girl who made me so mad with her chin in the air and her way of looking at me.”
The next day Mrs. Groves advertised for a position as housekeeper in some hotel, or as a chaperone to a party of young ladies during the next summer.
The winter which followed the wedding was passed mostly in Italy. April and May were given to Paris and Switzerland, and one day in June the Buford Gazette announced the return of Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Marsh, who were to reopen their country house at Maplehurst and entertain a large house party. All the necessary steps had been taken with regard to the place. Alex. had paid Mrs. Sherman and Katy the money left by Amos Marsh in banks and stocks,—a sum sufficient to insure their independence the rest of their lives. The wrong had been righted. Maplehurst was virtually his, Sherry was his, and he was steeped in times so good that he occasionally trembled lest the cup he was drinking should be dashed from his thirsting lips. Sherry would prefer a more quiet life than Alex. who is the happiest when a great many people around him are having a good time as well as himself. And he had it last summer. Maplehurst was full, and Sherry as the mistress was the star around which everyone revolved. The Marshes were there, and Sherry’s mother and Katy and Mrs. Pledger. Nos. 2 and 3 were missing. One was married, and one slept under the flowers in Mount Auburn, but Polly was there and was advanced to Mrs. Groves’ place, which she filled admirably and satisfactorily to all parties. The dog was there, too, and Alex. tried to change his name back to Laddie, but couldn’t.
“One Sherry is enough for me,” he said, but the dog was obstinate, paying no attention when called by the old name.
He was Sherry, and whenever he heard the name, whether addressed to him or to his mistress, he pricked up his ears and started for the stick he expected thrown for his diversion.
As I write the last page of this story a fierce blizzard is sweeping over the hills and mountains of New Hampshire and the highways are blocked with snow. Alex. and Sherry are in Florida, but invitations are already out for a large house party in July, when there will again be sounds of revelry by day and night at Maplehurst, which is now cold and silent in the grip of midwinter, with no sign of life except when Bowles goes up to see that all is safe.
THE END.