Hyacinth had been exhibited to all the Lamberts’ neighbors; he had been approved and congratulated. Frederickstown received him amiably into its midst. He had bought a calm, dark blue suit, and was growing a small beard to give some air of age and authority to his rosy, youthful face. He spent much of his time at the warehouse with Mr. Lambert where he sat and listened gravely to the talk of the other merchants, spoke rarely, but always with a judicious, reflective manner, which was positively impressive.
“A fine young man, who’ll be a credit to you, Mr. Lambert, and as good a husband as any young lady could wish,” was the general opinion of the new Winkler.
He had been admitted to the secrets of the Bakery, and here his talents shone. Here he proved his claim to his descent, exhibiting a genius for cake-making that might in time rival that of old Johann himself. He had already invented three new recipes; and so great was his enthusiasm that he actually sat up at night thinking out new mixtures. He had found the natural outlet for his creative instinct, and his whole soul was possessed with an ardor for increasing the name and fame of his house.
But it was not without a slight shadow of resentment that Jane, although she was sincerely fond of her future brother-in-law, saw him usurping the place that had been Paul’s. Now Paul seemed to be entirely forgotten; his place was filled; in the flurry of preparations even Aunt Gertrude did not have a thought to spare for him. It was as if he were no longer a member of the family at all, as if his life and theirs had no connection. How could they feel that way, Jane wondered indignantly. And to cap all, she had heard no news of the fate of the picture. She was bitterly disappointed, for even while she had tried to pretend that she had no reason to hope for much, she had really been building all sorts of delightful imaginings on her unshakable belief that it would win a prize.
But Jane was too entirely feminine not to be diverted, and greatly absorbed by the plans for the wedding; and on that rainy, windy afternoon, she busily pricked her fingers trying to make tiny stitches in the pretty, simple lingerie that she was helping Elise to make, and listened eagerly to the chattering of the other girls who were all talking and asking questions at once.
The brisk, kindly Annie Lee promptly fitted a thimble on her finger and took up the piece of muslin that Elise had been hemming. The two engaged ladies exchanged open confidences for the benefit of all, while Dolly sat by munching chocolates from the box of candies that she herself had brought as an offering to the bride-to-be.
“Now, do tell about the wedding,” she said, giving a bounce of anticipation. “Have you started on your dress?”
“Oh, yes—and Granny has given me a lovely piece of lace. Wait, I’ll show you. Janey, dear, will you go and put the kettle on, and I’ll make some tea in a little—you dear girls have gotten soaked coming to see me.”
Then the half-finished wedding dress was taken out of its box, and held so high that its immaculate cream-colored flounces should not touch the floor.
“It was mother’s,” Elise explained. “And I’m just altering it a little, so it will not look very old fashioned—but I can’t bear to change it, and I think it’s lovely as it is.”