"Do not tell me you weren't dreadfully frightened!" she cried.
Pearl blew a smoke ring.
"No," she said, "I was not afraid. I was mad—downright mad. Just as we came out of the church the awning burst in. For the moment I was dazed, for through the rent in the canvas I could see a multitude of faces, a sea of people that stretched away from the church for blocks, in every direction, and beat against it with irresistible force. As the mounted police tried to get the Duke and Duchess out, they drove the crowd back and something had to give. Naturally, it was the awning. Angelica Clime screamed and seized me by the arm, so that I had but one hand for defence, the one in which I was carrying my roses. A large fat woman with blond hair came first. I really don't think she meant to be rude but was just pushed through the hole, and, being through, wanted to know what our dresses were made of, so gave a grab for my gown to feel the material, and without thinking, I brought my roses down over her head—quite unintentionally—and her bonnet was knocked askew. She jumped back and fell, and those behind her, unable to stop themselves, piled over her."
"It must have been dreadful!" said Mrs. Radigan. "We could hear the shouts inside the church and thought you had all been massacred."
"And so the churchful of people came hurrying out, pinning us between two mobs," said Pearl. "It looked for a moment as though we should be crushed, torn in pieces and carried off in bits as souvenirs; but, fortunately, Williegilt Bumpschus knew what he was about when he chose giants for ushers, for when they saw our peril, they charged down the awning, swept the crowd out through the hole, and were able to keep them at bay till the police had got the Duke's carriage free, and came to our aid."
"Was anyone hurt?" I asked, for, though I had been in the thick of the adventure, my attention had been held by the delicate task of protecting the imperilled bridesmaids without being rude to any of the attacking party.
"We got off very well," Pearl laughed. "I saw a red-haired woman go away waving my roses, and Gladys Tumbleton was almost dragged into the mob at the end of a long strip of trimming that someone had secured as a prize, but, fortunately, Stuyve Mint had presence of mind enough to cut her free. It really was not half as bad as some other weddings, but I suppose the papers will call it a riot—they always exaggerate things so—yet, as a matter of fact, it was all over in a minute; the police got the crowd under control, and we were able to get away."
"But the Duke—the poor, dear little Duke!" cried Mrs. Radigan. "He must have been terribly frightened."
"On the contrary," said I, "he told me emphatically that it was jolly."
"As he says about everything," said Mrs. Radigan. "But I noticed him particularly at the house. He looked terribly decomposed."