In the morning my cab stopped in front of the old house near Washington Square, and Stella came forth with a friend, a sober little person who appeared greatly impressed with her responsibilities, and bore the totally inappropriate name of Marguerite.
“Dear, dear!” she said, “I’ve never attended a bride before. It’s very trying. And it’s very mean of you, Mr. Upton, to take Stella from us, and leave me with a new and stupid co-worker. How do you expect the dictionary to come out?”
“I don’t,” said I, “nor do I care if it doesn’t. There are too many words in the world already.”
Bill Chadwick, another classmate of mine, came up from downtown, and met us at the church door. The rector was a friend and fellow alumnus of ours. It was like a tiny family party, suddenly and solemnly hushed by the organ as we stood before the altar, and in the warm dimness of the great vacant church Stella and I were made man and wife. The four of us went out to the cab again, and Bill insisted on a wedding breakfast at Sherry’s.
“Good Lord!” he said, “you two gumshoe into an engagement, and get married without so much as a reporter in the church, and then expect to make a getaway like a pair of safe breakers! No, sir, you come with me, and get one real civilized meal before you go back to your farm fodder.”
Bill had the solemn little bridesmaid laughing before the luncheon was over, but the last we saw of them they were waving us good-bye from behind the grating as we went down the platform to our train, and the poor girl was mopping her eyes.
“Isn’t the best man supposed to fall in love with the bridesmaid?” I asked. “At least I hope he’ll dry her tears.”
“Good gracious, yes!” cried Stella. “I never thought of that. You don’t know what we’ve done! Marguerite is a dear girl and an excellent cross-indexer, but she’s no wife for your gay friend William. You’d best send him a telegram of warning.”
“Never!” said I. “Bill has cruised so long in Petticoat Bay as a blockade runner that I hope she shoots him full of holes and boards him in triumph. Besides, everybody ought to get married.”
Stella’s eyes looked up at mine, deep and happy below their twinkle, and we boarded the train.