CHAPTER XX.
A WAR BRIDE.
Marrying in Paris was certainly a much easier matter than it had been almost two years before when Molly Brown and Edwin Green had struggled to have the nuptial knot tied. Judy’s baptismal certificate was not demanded as had been Molly’s, and the long waiting for research work, as Kent expressed it, was not required. Mère Tricot undertook to engineer the affair and did it with such expedition that it could have been accomplished even before Judy got her trunk from Giverny.
It was very nice to have one’s trunk again, although it really was embarrassing to take up so much of the Tricots’ living room with the huge American affair.
“It seems funny to be married without any trousseau,” Judy confided to Mère Tricot.
“No trousseau! And what is in that great box if not trousseau?”
“I am sure I don’t know. I really haven’t any clothes to speak of that I can remember,” declared Judy.
“Well, let us see them!” begged Marie and her belle mère.
They were dying of curiosity to peep into the great box, so Judy unpacked for their benefit, and their eyes opened wide at her stack of shirt waists and lingerie and her many shoes.
“Two more suits and a great coat, silk dresses—at least three of them—and skirts and shirts of duck and linen!” exclaimed Marie. “And hats and gloves—and blouses enough for three! Not many war brides will boast such a trousseau.”
So our bride began to feel that in comparison to the little Marie, she had so much that she must not worry about wedding clothes. Instead, she divided her store of riches, and making up a bundle with a silk dress and some blouses and lingerie, a suit and a hat, she hid it in Mère Tricot’s linen press for Marie to find when she, Judy, was married and gone over the seas.