Early in February Christine was to be married, and the Fairfields had persuaded her to accept the use of their house for the occasion.

Christine had demurred, for she wanted a simple ceremony with no reception at all. But the Fairfields finally made her see that Mr. Hepworth’s position as an artist of high repute made it desirable that his many friends should be invited to his wedding.

So Christine agreed to the plan, and Patty was delighted at the thought of the festivities in her home.

The elder Fairfields had returned from their Southern trip, but Mrs. Allen was still with them, and there were other house guests from Christine’s Southern home.

The day of the wedding, Patty, assisted by Elise and Mona, was superintending the decorations. Christine had insisted that these 334 should be simple, and as Mr. Hepworth, too, was opposed to the conventional work of a florist, the girls had directed it all themselves.

“It does look perfectly sweet,” said Patty, as she surveyed the drawing-room. “Personally, I should prefer all those dinky white telegraph poles stretched with ribbon and bunched up with flowers to make an aisle for the happy couple to walk through. But as it isn’t my wedding, I suppose we must let the bride have her own way.”

“I’m tired of those tied up poles,” said Elise, decidedly. “I think this is a lot prettier, and all this Southern jasmine is beautiful, and just like Christine.”

“She is the sweetest thing!” said Patty. “Every new present that comes in, she sits and looks at it helplessly, as if it were the very last straw!”

“Well, of course, most of the presents are from Mr. Hepworth’s friends,” said Mona, “and they are stunning! I don’t wonder Christine is overcome.”

“She has lots of friends of her own, too,” said Patty. “All the girls gave her beautiful things, and you two quite outdid yourselves. 335 That lamp of yours, Mona, is a perfect dream; and, Elise, I never saw such gems as your silver candlesticks. Christine’s path through life will be well lighted! Well, everything’s finished, and I think it’s about time we went to dress. The ceremony’s at four, and as I’m going to be a bridesmaid for the first time in my mad career, I don’t want to be late at the party.”

“How beautiful the drawing-room looks,” said Mrs. Allen, coming along just then. “Patty dear, doesn’t this all remind you of the day Nan was married?”

“Yes, Mrs. Allen; only the weddings are quite different. But Christine would keep this as simple as possible, so of course I let her have her own way.”

“Yes, Patty, that’s the privilege of a bride. But some day you can have your own way in the direction of your own wedding, and I rather fancy it will be an elaborate affair. I hope I’ll be here to see.”

“I hope you will, Mrs. Allen,” laughed Patty; “but don’t look for it very soon. My suitors are so bashful, you know; I have to urge them on.”

“Nonsense!” cried Elise. “Patty’s greatest 336 trouble is to keep her suitors off! She tries to hold them at arm’s length, but they are so insistent that it is difficult.”

“I think you girls are all too young to have suitors,” commented Mrs. Allen, smiling at the pretty trio.

“Oh, Mrs. Allen,” said Patty; “suitors doesn’t mean men who want to marry you. I suppose it’s sort of slang, but nowadays, girls call all their young men suitors, even the merest casual acquaintances.”

“Oh, I see,” said Mrs. Allen. “I suppose as in my younger days we used to call them beaux.”

“Yes, just that,” said Patty. “Why, Mr. Hepworth used to be one of our favourite suitors, until he persuaded Christine to marry him; but we have lots of them left.”

“Is that big one coming to the wedding?” asked Mrs. Allen.

“She means Bill Farnsworth,” said Patty to the others. “She always calls him ‘that big one.’ I don’t know whether he’s coming or not. He said if he possibly could get here, he would.”

“He’ll come,” said Elise, wagging her head, sagely. “He’ll manage it somehow. Why, 337 Mrs. Allen, he worships the ground Patty walks on!”

“So do all my suitors,” said Patty, complacently. “They’re awful ground worshippers, the whole lot of them! But so long as they don’t worship me, they may adore the ground as much as they like. Now, you people must excuse me, for I’m going to get into that flummery bridesmaid’s frock,—and I can tell you, though it looks so simple, it’s fearfully and wonderfully made.”

Patty ran away to her own room, but paused on the way to speak to Christine, who was already being dressed in her bridal robes.

“You sweet thing!” cried Patty, flinging her arms round her friend’s neck. “Christine dear, you know I’m not much good at sentimental expressions, but I do want to wish you such a heap of joy that you’ll just almost break down under it!”

Christine smiled back into Patty’s honest eyes, and realised the loving friendship that prompted the words.

“Patty,” she said, “I can’t begin to thank you for all you’ve done for me this past year, but I thank you most,”—here she blushed, and 338 whispered shyly,—“because you didn’t want him, yourself!”

“Oh, Christine!” said Patty, “I do want him, something dreadful! I shall just pine away the rest of my sad life because I can’t have him! But you wrested him from me, and I give him to you with my blessing!” And then Patty went away, and Christine smiled, knowing that Patty’s words were merely jesting, and knowing too, with a heart full of content, that Gilbert Hepworth really wanted her, and not the radiant, mischievous Patty.

Promptly at four o’clock, the old, well-known music sounded forth, and Patty came slowly downstairs. Her gown was of white chiffon, over pink chiffon, and fell in soft, shimmering draperies, that looked like classic simplicity, but were in reality rather complicated. Christine had designed both their gowns, and they were marvels of beauty. On Patty’s head was perched a coquettish little cap of the style most approved for bridesmaids, and she carried a clustered spray of pink roses. As she entered the drawing-room, intent on walking correctly in time to the music, she chanced to glance up, and saw Bill Farnsworth’s blue eyes fixed upon 339 her. Unthinkingly, she gave him a radiant smile, and then, with the pink in her cheeks deepened a little, she went on her way toward the group of palms, where the wedding party would stand.

Not even the bride herself looked prettier than Patty; though Christine was very sweet, in her soft white chiffon, her misty veil, and her shower bouquet of white flowers, which she had expressly requested should be without ribbons.

Only the more intimate friends had been invited to the ceremony, but immediately after, the house was filled with the reception guests. Patty was in gay spirits, which was not at all unusual for that young woman. She fluttered about everywhere, like a big pink butterfly, but ever and again hovering back to Christine, to caress her, and, as she expressed it, “To keep up her drooping spirits.” Christine had never entirely overcome her natural shyness, and being the centre of attraction on this occasion greatly embarrassed her, and she was glad of Patty’s gay nonsense to distract attention from herself.

Kenneth Harper was best man, and, as he told Patty, the responsibility of the whole affair 340 rested on himself and her. “We’re really of far greater importance than the bride and groom,” he said; “and they depend on us for everything. Have you the confetti all ready, Patty?”

“Yes, of course; do you have to go to the train with them, Ken?”

“No; my duties are ended when I once get them packed into a motor at the door. But Christine looks as if she couldn’t survive much longer, and as for old Gilbert, he’s as absent-minded as the conventional bridegroom.”

“Christine’s all right,” said Patty. “I’m going to take her off, now, to get into her travelling clothes. Oh, Ken, she has the loveliest suit! Sort of a taupe colour, you know, and the dearest hat——”

“Patty! Do you suppose I care what she’s going to wear away? But do see to it that she’s ready on time! You girls will all get to weeping,—that’s the way they always do,—and you’ll spin out your farewells so that they’ll lose their train! Run along with Christine, now; Hepworth is fidgeting like the dickens.”

So the pretty bridesmaid took the pretty bride away, and Patty begged Christine to make haste with her dressing, lest she might lose the train. 341

“And Mr. Hepworth will go away without you,” Patty threatened. “Now, you do always dawdle, Christine; but this time you’ve got to hustle,—so be spry,—Mrs. Hepworth.”

Christine smiled at Patty’s use of the new name, and she tried to make the haste Patty demanded. But she was slow by nature, and Patty danced around her in terror, lest she should really be late.

“Here’s your coat, Christine,—put your arms in, do! Now the other one. Now sit down, and I’ll put your hat on for you. Oh, Mrs. Hepworth, do hold your head still! Here, stick this pin in yourself, or I may jab it through your brain,—though I must confess you act as if you hadn’t any! or if you have, it’s addled. And Ken says that husband of yours is acting just the same way. My! it’s lucky you two infants had a capable and clever bridesmaid and best man to get you off! There! take your gloves,—no, don’t hold them like that! put them on. Wake up, Christine; remember, the show isn’t over yet. You’ve got to go downstairs, and be showered with confetti, and, oh, Christine, don’t forget to throw your bouquet!”

“I won’t do it!” and Christine Hepworth 342 woke up suddenly from her dreaming, and clasped her bridal bouquet to her heart.

“Nonsense! of course you will! You’ve simply got to! I’m not going to run this whole wedding, and then have the prima donna balk in the last act. Now, listen, Christine, yo............