CHAPTER XIII. A SURPRISING ANNOUNCEMENT
"Nothing exciting has happened for ever so long," said the Story Girldiscontentedly, one late May evening, as we lingered under the wonderfulwhite bloom of the cherry trees. There was a long row of them in theorchard, with a Lombardy poplar at either end, and a hedge of lilacsbehind. When the wind blew over them all the spicy breezes of Ceylon'sisle were never sweeter.
It was a time of wonder and marvel, of the soft touch of silver rain ongreening fields, of the incredible delicacy of young leaves, of blossomin field and garden and wood. The whole world bloomed in a flush andtremor of maiden loveliness, instinct with all the evasive, fleetingcharm of spring and girlhood and young morning. We felt and enjoyed itall without understanding or analyzing it. It was enough to be glad andyoung with spring on the golden road.
"I don't like excitement very much," said Cecily. "It makes one sotired. I'm sure it was exciting enough when Paddy was missing, but wedidn't find that very pleasant."
"No, but it was interesting," returned the Story Girl thoughtfully."After all, I believe I'd rather be miserable than dull."
"I wouldn't then," said Felicity decidedly. "And you need never be dullwhen you have work to do. 'Satan finds some mischief still for idlehands to do!'"
"Well, mischief is interesting," laughed the Story Girl. "And I thoughtyou didn't think it lady-like to speak of that person, Felicity?"
"It's all right if you call him by his polite name," said Felicitystiffly.
"Why does the Lombardy poplar hold its branches straight up in theair like that, when all the other poplars hold theirs out or hang themdown?" interjected Peter, who had been gazing intently at the slenderspire showing darkly against the fine blue eastern sky.
"Because it grows that way," said Felicity.
"Oh I know a story about that," cried the Story Girl. "Once upon a timean old man found the pot of gold at the rainbow's end. There IS a potthere, it is said, but it is very hard to find because you can never getto the rainbow's end before it vanishes from your sight. But this oldman found it, just at sunset, when Iris, the guardian of the rainbowgold, happened to be absent. As he was a long way from home, and the potwas very big and heavy, he decided to hide it until morning and then getone of his sons to go with him and help him carry it. So he hid it underthe boughs of the sleeping poplar tree.
"When Iris came back she missed the pot of gold and of course she was ina sad way about it. She sent Mercury, the messenger of the gods, tolook for it, for she didn't dare leave the rainbow again, lest somebodyshould run off with that too. Mercury asked all the trees if they hadseen the pot of gold, and the elm, oak and pine pointed to the poplarand said,
"'The poplar can tell you where it is.'
"'How can I tell you where it is?' cried the poplar, and she held up allher branches in surprise, just as we hold up our hands--and down tumbledthe pot of gold. The poplar was amazed and indignant, for she was a veryhonest tree. She stretched her boughs high above her head and declaredthat she would always hold them like that, so that nobody could hidestolen gold under them again. And she taught all the little poplars sheknew to stand the same way, and that is why Lombardy poplars always do.But the aspen poplar leaves are always shaking, even on the very calmestday. And do you know why?"
And then she told us the old legend that the cross on which the Saviourof the world suffered was made of aspen poplar wood and so never againcould its poor, shaken, shivering leaves know rest or peace. There wasan aspen in the orchard, the very embodiment of youth and spring in itslitheness and symmetry. Its little leaves were hanging tremulously, notyet so fully blown as to hide its development of bough and twig, makingpoetry against the spiritual tints of a spring sunset.
"It does look sad," said Peter, "but it is a pretty tree, and it wasn'tits fault."
"There's a heavy dew and it's time we stopped talking nonsense and wentin," decreed Felicity. "If we don't we'll all have a cold, and thenwe'll be miserable enough, but it won't be very exciting."
"All the same, I wish something exciting would happen," finished theStory Girl, as we walked up through the orchard, peopled with itsnun-like shadows.
"There's a new moon tonight, so may be you'll get your wish," saidPeter. "My Aunt Jane didn't believe there was anything in the moonbusiness, but you never can tell."
The Story Girl did get her wish. Something happened the very next day.She joined us in the afternoon with a quite indescribable expressionon her face, compounded of triumph, anticipation, and regret. Hereyes betrayed that she had been crying, but in them shone a chastenedexultation. Whatever the Story Girl mourned over it was evident she wasnot without hope.
"I have some news to tell you," she said importantly. "Can you guesswhat it is?"
We couldn't and wouldn't try.
"Tell us right off," implored Felix. "You look as if it was somethingtremendous."
"So it is. Listen--Aunt Olivia is going to be married."
We stared in blank amazement. Peg Bowen's hint had faded from our mindsand we had never put much faith in it.
"Aunt Olivia! I don't believe it," cried Felicity flatly. "Who toldyou?"
"Aunt Olivia herself. So it is perfectly true. I'm awfully sorry in oneway--but oh, won't it be splendid to have a real wedding in the family?She's going to have a big wedding--and I am to be bridesmaid."
"I shouldn't think you were old enough to be a bridesmaid," saidFelicity sharply.
"I'm nearly fifteen. Anyway, Aunt Olivia says I have to be."
"Who's she going to marry?" asked Cecily, gathering herself togetherafter the shock, and finding that the world was going on just the same.
"His name is Dr. Seton and he is a Halifax man. She met him when shewas at Uncle Edward's last summer. They've been engaged ever since. Thewedding is to be the third week in June."
"And our school concert comes off the next week," complained Felicity."Why do things always come together like that? And what are you going todo if Aunt Olivia is going away?"
"I'm coming to live at your house," answered the Story Girl rathertimidly. She did not know how Felicity might like that. But Felicitytook it rather well.
"You've been here most of the time anyhow, so it'll just be that you'llsleep and eat here, too. But what's to become of Uncle Roger?"
"Aunt Olivia says he'll have to get married, too. But Uncle Roger sayshe'd rather hire a housekeeper than marry one, because in the first casehe could turn her off if he didn't like her, but in the second case hecouldn't."
"There'll be a lot of cooking to do for the wedding," reflected Felicityin a tone of satisfaction.
"I s'pose Aunt Olivia will want some rusks made. I hope she has plentyof tooth-powder laid in," said Dan.
"It's a pity you don't use some of that tooth-powder you're so fond oftalking about yourself," retorted Felicity. "When anyone has a mouth thesize of yours the teeth show so plain."
"I brush my teeth every Sunday," asseverated Dan.
"Every Sunday! You ought to brush them every DAY."
"Did anyone ever hear such nonsense?" demanded Dan sincerely.
"Well, you know, it really does say so in the Family Guide," said Cecilyquietly.
"Then the Family Guide people must have lots more spare time than Ihave," retorted Dan contemptuously.
"Just think, the Story Girl will have her name in the papers if she'sbridesmaid," marvelled Sara Ray.
"In the Halifax papers, too," added Felix, "since Dr. Seton is a Halifaxman. What is his first name?"
"Robert."
"And will we have to call him Uncle Robert?"
"Not until he's married to her. Then we will, of course."
"I hope your Aunt Olivia won't disappear before the ceremony," remarkedSara Ray, who was surreptitiously reading "The Vanquished Bride," byValeria H. Montague in the Family Guide.
"I hope Dr. Seton won't fail to show up, like your cousin Rachel Ward'sbeau," said Peter.
"That makes me think of another story I read the oth
er day aboutGreat-uncle Andrew King and Aunt Georgina," laughed the Story Girl. "Ithappened eighty years ago. It was a very stormy winter and the roadswere bad. Uncle Andrew lived in Carlisle, and Aunt Georgina--she wasMiss Georgina Matheson then--lived away up west, so he couldn't get tosee her very often. They agreed to be married that winter, but Georginacouldn't set the day exactly because her brother, who lived in Ontario,was coming home for a visit, and she wanted to be married while he washome. So it was arranged that she was to write Uncle Andrew and tell himwhat day to come. She did, and she told him to come on a Tuesday. Buther writing wasn't very good and poor Uncle Andrew thought she wroteThursday. So on Thursday he drove all the way to Georgina's home to bemarried. It was forty miles and a bitter cold day. But it wasn't anycolder than the reception he got from Georgina. She was out in theporch, with her head tied up in a towel, picking geese. She had beenall ready Tuesday, and her friends and the minister were there, and thewedding supper prepared. But there was no bridegroom and Georgina wasfurious. Nothing Uncle Andrew could say would appease her. She wouldn'tlisten to a word of explanation, but told him to go, and never show hisnose there again. So poor Uncle Andrew had to go ruefully home, hopingthat she would relent later on, because he was really very much in lovewith her."
"And did she?" queried Felicity.
"She did. Thirteen years exactly from that day they were married. Ittook her just that long to forgive him."
"It took her just that long to find out she couldn't get anybody else,"said Dan, cynically.