“You promised me once you wouldn’t fly with anybody until you could fly with me. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I did, you goose! But I didn’t say anybody—I said any man; so you see I didn’t break my promise when I flew with Mrs. Polly Perkins!”
CHAPTER XXII.
THE WEDDING BREAKFAST.
When the Marquise d’Ochtè said she would do something, she always did it and did it as well as it could be done. When she undertook to find out where and how Polly Perkins was for the benefit of his spunky wife, she did it and did it immediately. And not only did she find him, but she got a little respite from duty for him and bore him back to Paris where she had already spirited Jo to be present at the wedding breakfast. She had asked a holiday for Jo, too, although the grizzled commander was loathe to let his best aviator off even for a day.
Jo was taken to the converted d’Ochtè mansion and there dressed like a nice, feminine little woman, her hair curled by madame’s maid. A tight velvet toque and a dotted veil completed the transformation and the commander himself would not have recognized his one time prize aviator. All of this masquerade was for the sole purpose of fooling Philippe, who, also, was to be one of the guests at the Tricots’.
Polly was so happy to see his Jo again that it was pathetic to behold, and her pride in him and his bravery was beautiful. Polly was vastly improved. Kent, who had always liked the little man and had insisted that there was much more to him than the other members of the colony could see, was delighted to have his opinion of his friend verified.
The ceremony was a very simple one, performed, not by the magistrate as Mère Tricot had suggested, but at the Protestant Episcopal Church. Polly Perkins gave away the bride, and Jo looked as though she would burst with pride at this honour done her husband. Jim Castleman was best man, and Cousin Sally fell in love with him on the spot.
“He is like the young men of my youth,” she declared, “the young men of Kentucky, I am not saying how many years ago.”