Rachel was one of the brightest, wittiest young ladies in Perseverance, and this performance of hers amused the bride and bridegroom, and everybody else but little Patty. Patty took it all in earnest. She had never heard before of the funny ceremony of dancing in a brass kettle, and wondered if it had anything to do with those candles of hers.
"Mr. Starbird likes Dorcas better than he does Rachel," thought the little girl, "and that was why he asked her to marry him. I should think Rachel might know that! She says he made a mistake; but he didn't! If Rachel feels so bad, I shouldn't think she would tell of it. Poor Mr. Starbird! He'll be so sorry! and Dorcas will be so sorry! O, I wish Rachel hadn't told—"
"Why, Patty, what makes you look so sober?" asked William Parlin. "You look as if Master Purple had been feruling you."
But Patty was ashamed to let any one know the trouble in her mind; and after the bride and bridegroom had gone, she ran away by herself to cry; and that is all she remembers of the wedding.
"Is it really grandma Parlin you have been writing about?" says Prudy.
"It doesn't seem much like it; for here she sits, with her cap and spectacles on, knitting a stocking. Please take off your cap, grandma, so we can think how you looked when you were a little girl."
Mrs. Parlin took it off, but it didn't make any difference, for her hair was grayer still without the lace.
"That isn't the way, children," said aunt Madge; "you'll have to imagine how she looked; or, as Fly would say, you must make believe. Touch her hair with gold. There, see how it shines! Take off those spectacles; smooth out the wrinkles; make her face as soft as a rose-leaf, as soft as your face, Fly; dwindle her figure down, down, till she looks about ten years old. Now do you see her? Isn't she pretty? How the sparkles come and go in her eyes! Wouldn't you like to have a romp with her in the new-mown hay? For she hasn't any more rheumatism in her back than a butterfly. Her feet are dancing this minute in pink kid slippers with rosettes on them as big as poppies, and she wears a white muslinet gown, with a pink calico petticoat. Wasn't that the way she was dressed at the wedding, father Parlin?"
"How should I know?" replies grandpa. "I don't remember what she had on; but she was the spryest, prettiest little girl in town; and she hasn't a child—no, nor a grandchild either—that begins to be equal to her."