CHAPTER XIX.
THE WEDDING.
July was almost over and it seemed but yesterday since we had come to the Beach and taken possession of Mrs. Rand's cottage and made preparations for the continuous house-party. So many pleasures and excitements had been crowded into that month that really might have been spread over six months and still not have been stupid! It seems a pity that pleasant happenings make time pass quickly and sad and boresome things make it drag. How much better if it could only be the other way. I know Miss Cox felt that the month had gone very quickly and would have been glad of a few more weeks to give to preparations for matrimony, but Mr. Robert Gordon had got the bit between his teeth and there was no holding him in.
"Haven't I been waiting for years and years? Isn't my hair white with waiting?" he would say, shaking his exceedingly becoming, iron-grey locks.
We girls privately thought that he might have spunked up a little sooner instead of spending all those weary years in growing grey, no matter how becoming it had proven to be; but Zebedee told me he rather felt that Miss Cox and Mr. Gordon were more suited to each other than they had been in their youth. The years of separation had taught them a lesson they might never have learned together: how to control their tempers and bridle their tongues.
I have never seen a couple who seemed to be in greater accord and harmony. It was a harmony of the soul and one that would last through eternity, not just a superficial agreement caused by the "glamor of the amour." Perhaps Zebedee was right and their happiness was more certain now that suffering and experience had instilled in their hearts the wisdom of moderation and self-control.
It was to be a very quiet wedding at old St. Paul's in Norfolk, but we girls were in a state of excitement that made Miss Cox appear calm in contrast. The boys from the camp were invited and a half dozen of Mr. Gordon's most intimate friends.
Miss Cox was singularly alone in the world except for some very dear friends who were not getatable. Mr. Gordon's mother was dead and his sister married and living in California, so we were, after all, the nearest thing to a family they could scrape up. The groom wanted Zebedee for his best man but Miss Cox had to have him to give her away and a next best man must needs be chosen.
Blanche, of course, had to be included in the wedding party, and it was with a great deal of finesse that we persuaded her not to wear the fearful and wonderful costume she had arrived in. Zebedee solved the problem of how to do it by presenting her with a very large new black mohair skirt and a plain, tailored linen shirt waist and a black sailor hat.
"If poor, dear Blanche has a hankering for her gorgeous finery, tell her that she must wear this sober costume to please me. I know she would not hurt my feelings for anything. Also tell her that it would be perfectly au fait for her to go to this gay function after the recent bereavement in her family, the untimely death of the brother's baby, provided she is suitably attired. There is a new white apron, too," said Zebedee, handing the box to Dum.