And prompt at 9:30 the Reverend Percey shows up, some out of breath from his dash across from the subway, but ready to shoot his lines as soon as he got his hat off. While he didn't quite have to do that, we didn't waste much time on settin' the stage.
"Come on, Vee," says I, takin' her by the hand. "How about over there in our old window alcove, eh? Tum tum-te-tum!"
She holds back just a second. Then she tosses her chin up, smiles brave at me, and gives my fingers a squeeze. Say, she's some girl.
Another minute and the Reverend Percey is off with a flyin' start. He ain't so husky to look at, but he booms out the "Wilt-thou" stuff real impressive and solemn, part of the time peekin' over his glasses at the folks behind, and then lookin' earnest at us. For an off-hand performance I call it a good job. And almost before I knew it was under way it's all over.
"Well, Vee," says I, plantin' a smack in the right place, "we've done it!"
"I—I wish Auntie knew," says she.
"But she does," says Mr. Robert. "At Torchy's request I have just called her up. She will be here in less than half an hour."
"With her blessin'—or what?" I asks.
"As to that," says Mr. Robert, "I am not informed."
Anyway, we had time to brace ourselves. Vee had only finished changing and the bags was bein' sent down to the taxi when in she comes.