The Honorable Miss Part 51

THE BRIDE!

Miss Peters was lying in sound slumber, and Mrs. Butler, with a wet sponge in her hand, was standing over the little spinster's bed.

"Maria," she said, in her sharp voice. And at the same moment the sponge descended with unerring aim on the sleeper's upturned face.

"Good heavens--fire--water! What is it?--I'm drowning--" gasped Miss Peters.

She raised her eyes, choked, for her mouth had been open, and some of the contents of the sponge had got in, and then surveyed her sister in trepidation.

"Oh, Martha, it's you. How you frightened me!"

"I only applied the sponge," replied Mrs. Butler. "It's an old-fas.h.i.+oned remedy for inordinate drowsiness, and effectual."

"But surely, surely--I feel as if I had only just dropped to sleep."

"Maria, it's five o'clock."

"Five! What do you mean, Martha? Am I to be accused of inordinate sleepiness at five in the morning?"

"On this morning you are. This is the wedding morning--get up, dress yourself. Put on your bridal finery, and join me in the parlor."

Mrs. Butler left the room. Miss Peters rubbed her sleepy eyes again.

"The wedding morning! and my bridal finery!" she murmured. "One would think poor Sam had never been drowned. I don't think Martha has any heart. She knows how I suffered about Sam. He certainly never proposed for me, but he was attentive--yes, he was attentive, and I--I suffered.

It's thirty years now since he was drowned. Martha oughtn't to forget.

People have no memories in these days."

The little lady began to put on her garments.

"It does seem extraordinarily early to have to get up, even though Bee is to be married at eleven o'clock to-day," she murmured. "Certainly, Martha is a most masterful person. Well, I don't mind so much, as it is for Bee's sake."

Miss Peters proceeded with her toilet, took tenderly out of its folds of camphor and white linen, a little antiquated brown silk dress, put it on, crossed over her shoulders a neat fichu of white lace, mounted her bonnet, composed of a piece of silk, which she had artfully removed from the skirt of her dress. This bonnet was trimmed with three enormous lemon-colored chrysanthemums, and was further embellished with a pink ruching, which surrounded the good lady's face.

Miss Peters almost trembled as she placed this exquisite head-dress over her scanty locks. The moment the bonnet was on, she became conscious of an immense amount of moral support. In that bonnet she could even defy Mrs. Butler.

"Nothing gives a lady such a nice feeling as being properly dressed,"

she murmured. "I am glad I went to the expense of a bit of pink silk to make this ruching. It is wonderfully soft, and becoming, too. I hope Martha won't object to the chrysanthemums. I chose the largest Perry had in his shop on purpose, in order not to be accused of aping youth. Now, my parasol, my gloves, my handkerchief. Oh, and my fan. I'm sure to flush a little when I see that dear child being given away. Now I'm quite ready. It certainly is an extraordinarily early hour to be dressed for a wedding, which is not to take place till eleven o'clock."

"Maria!" screamed Mrs. Butler's voice. "If you're not quick, you'll not have time to swallow your coffee."

"Dear, dear!" exclaimed Miss Peters, "is Martha's head going? I have not been half-an-hour dressing; can she have mistaken the hour?"

The little spinster ran downstairs.

"Here I am, Martha. Really I--"

"Not a word, Maria. Sit down at once, and drink off your coffee. You can munch a bit of bread in your hand as we go along."

"But, Martha, it is not six o'clock yet."

"What of that? We have not a moment to lose. There'll be crowds at the church. I am given to understand it will be packed, and as I intend to have a front seat, I'm going now."

Miss Peters began to count on her fingers.

"But Martha, it surely is not necessary."

"Now, Maria, that's enough. You'd argue any one black in the face. I don't often have my way, but I'll have it on this occasion. I am going to call for Mrs. Gorman Stanley; and Mrs. Morris asked me to knock her up, and we'll all of us just be at the church in good time."

"In good time," gasped Miss Maria. "But the doors won't be opened."

"Oh, won't they! You just wait and see. I haven't fought that girl's battles for nothing. We'll be able to get into the church, Maria, don't you fear. I have made friends as well as foes of late, and there are these who can get me into the church, so that I may stand up for Beatrice to the last. Now, have you swallowed your coffee?"

"I have. It has scalded my throat frightfully. I hate drinking hot liquid in such a hurry."

"Maria, you are dreadfully fractious this morning. And, good gracious me! What have you got in your bonnet! Here let me hold up the candle and look."

"Don't--don't drop the grease on my brown silk, Martha."

"Brown fiddlestick! Hold your head steady. Well--I never! The vanity of some folk! The apings of some people. Oh, I haven't a word to say if you like to make a show of yourself. I respect my years. I live up to them.

Some people, I won't name who--don't."

"Had I better take off the bonnet, Martha? I thought these very _large_ chrysanthemums--I chose them on purpose--"

"Hideous--you're a perfect fright! Look at me. Is there anything to laugh at in my velvet bonnet? Does it poke itself on the back of my head? And does it deck itself in pink and yellow?"

"It looks funereal, Martha, it's all black."

"Funereal! It looks suitable. Come on, or we'll be late."

The two ladies left the house. They walked quickly in the early morning light. Presently, they were joined by Mrs. Gorman Stanley. She was completely clothed in bridal garments of yellow. Her robe was yellow satin, her bonnet was to match, with blue forget-me-nots cozily nestling in its folds. Mrs. Morris joined the group in terra-cotta cashmere, with a cream lace bonnet. Round her face and mouth she had enveloped a black woollen shawl, but this was to be discarded presently.

As the ladies walked to the church they were joined by several more Beatricites, and when at last they found themselves under the shadow of the old tower, and in the shelter of the ancient porch, they were quite a goodly company.

"We'll just fill the front seats comfortably," said Mrs. Butler. "When Mrs. Bell and her Hart.i.tes arrive they'll have to go behind."

"But how are we to get in?" again questioned Miss Maria.

"Oh, I'll manage that. I have it all arranged. I spoke to Hunt yesterday."

Hunt was not only the baker, he was the church verger. He had quite sympathized with Mrs. Butler's wishes, while selling her a two-penny loaf yesterday. But why did he not put in an appearance now?

"Martha," again whispered Miss Maria, "Who are those people creeping round there by the south wall?"

"No one," snapped Mrs. Butler. "You're fanciful this morning, Maria.

It's those horrid lemon-colored chrysanthemums; they have turned your head."

"I don't know about that," retorted Miss Peters. "I am sure I saw Mrs.

Bell's snuff-colored bonnet."