“They were married at the old Inn below Alexandria this morning, by the local Methodist clergyman. Miss Logan is a Methodist—fancy. And Edith was bridesmaid.”
But Eloise did not know that Lucy had worn the wedding dress and veil that Edith had given her and looked lovely in them. And that after the ceremony, Delafield had wrung Edith’s hand and had said, “I shall never know how to thank you for what you have been to Lucy.”
Edith’s candid eyes had met his squarely. “You know you are not half good enough for her, Del,” and he had said, humbly, “I’m not and that’s the truth. But I am going to do my darndest to be what she thinks I am.”
Martha and her husband had served a delicious breakfast in the big empty dining-room. Only Edith and Baldy were there besides the bride and groom. Lucy had very sensibly refused to have any fuss and feathers. “If it is quiet, people won’t have so much to say about it.”
Delafield’s manner to Lucy was perfect. “What do you think she has made me do?” he asked Edith. “Buy a farm in Virginia. We are going to raise pigs—black Berkshires, because Lucy likes the slant of their ears and the curl of their tails. She has been reading books about them, and we are going to spend our honeymoon motoring around the country and buying stock.”
Oh, bravo, bravo, little Lucy, not to risk boring this fashionable young husband with a conventional honeymoon! Edith wanted to clap her hands. But she made no sign, except to meet Lucy’s quiet glance with a lift of the eyebrows.
Edith and Baldy lingered after the bride and groom had driven off in a great gray car—bound for the Virginia country place which Delafield had bought, and made ready for the occupancy in the twinkling of an eye.
“Gee, but you’re superlative,” Baldy told her as they walked in the garden.
“Am I?”
“Yes. And the way you carried it off.”