 The wedding. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. This reading by Lucy Burgoyne. The Wedding by Jenny Betts Hartzwick Well, it's over. It's all over. Being the last to leave, I know that. And I declare, I'm that full of all the things we had to eat that John and me won't want any supper for a good hour yet. So I just ran in to tell you about it while it's on top of my mind. It's a never-lasting shame you had to miss it. One thing, though, you'll get a tray full of the good things sent into you. I shouldn't wonder. I know there's loads left, for I happened to slip out to the kitchen for a drink of water. I was that dry after all those salty nuts, and I didn't want to trouble them. And I saw just heaps of things standing round. Most likely you'll get a good, large plate of cake, not just a pinch and little mite, over peace in a box. The boxes are real pretty, though, and they did look real palatial, all stacked up on a table by the front door, with a strange coloured man in white gloves like a pool bearer to hand them to you. How did I get two of them? Why? It just happened that way. You see, when I was leaving, I missed my sunshade and I laid my box down on the hat rack stand while I went upstairs to look for it. I went through all the rooms, and just when I'd about given it up, why, there it was, right in my hand, all the time. Wasn't it foolish? And when I came downstairs, I found I'd clean forgot where I'd laid the box of cake. I hunted everywhere, and when I'd just had to tell the man how twas, so he handed me another one. And I was just walking out the front door, when, would you believe it, if there wasn't the other one, just as innocent, on the hat rack stand where I had laid it. So now I have three of them, counting John's. I just can't seem to realise that Eleanor Jameson is married at last. Can you? She took her time, if ever anybody did. They do say she was real taken with that young college professor, with the full beard and spectacles, that visited there last summer. And then to think that, after all, she went and married a man, with the smooth face. He wears glasses though, that's one point in common. Eleanor was going off a good deal lately, don't you think so? You hadn't noticed it, but then you never was any great hand at noticing. I've noticed you weren't. Why? The other day, when I was there offering to help him, get ready for the wedding, I noticed that she looked real worn. And there was two or three little fine lines in her eye corners, not real wrinkles, of course, but we all know that lines is a forerunner. Her hair is beginning to turn too. I noticed that coming out of church last Sunday. I daresay her knowing this made her less particular than she'd once had been. And after all, marrying any husband is a good deal, like buying a new black silk dress pattern, an awful risk. You may look at it on both sides and hold it up to the light, and pull it to see if it'll fray and try if it'll spot. But you can't be sure what it'll do till after you've worn it as well. There's one advantage to the dress pattern though. You can make him take it back if you mistrust it, won't wear. If you haven't cut into it, that is, that when you've got a husband, why? You've got him to have and to hold, for better and worse, and good and all. Yes, I'm coming to the wedding, I declare. When I think how careless Eleanor is about little things, I can't help mistrusting what kind of a housekeeper she'll turn out. Why? When John's and my invitation came, it was only printed to the church. There wasn't any reception card among it. Now, I've supplied Eleanor's folks with butter and eggs and spring chickens for 30 years, and I'd just have gone anyway, for I knew it was a mistake. But John held out that it wasn't, and they didn't mean to have us to the house part. So, to settle it, I went right over and told him. I told Eleanor she mustn't feel put out about it. We was all mortal, and if it hadn't been for satisfying John, I'd never have let her know how careless she'd been. Of course, I'd made allowance. A wedding is upsetting to the intellect. And so, it was all right. I had a real good view of the ceremony, but it wasn't their fault that I had. It just happened that way. When John and me got there, I asked the young man at the door. He was a yasha and a stranger to me, to give us a front seat. But he said that all the front places was reserved for the relations of the bride and groom, and then I noticed that they tied off the middle aisle about seven pews back with white satin ribbons and a big bunch of pink roses. It seemed real impolite to invite folks to a wedding and then take the best seats themselves. Well, just then I happened to feel my shoe lacing getting loose, and I stepped to one side to fix it. And when I got up from stooping and my gloves on and buttoned, I had to take him off to tie my shoe and straighten John to crevette the hem. Why? There was the families on both sides just going in. Of course, we had to follow right along behind them. And when we came up to the ribbons, would you believe it? The big bow just untied itself, or seemed to. I heard afterward it was done by somebody pulling an invisible wire, and we all walked through and took seats. I made John go into the pew ahead of me so as I could get out without disturbing anybody if I should have a headache or feel faint. When John found we were sitting with the family. He was right close up against Eleanor's mother. He was forgetting up and moving back, but I just whispered to him, John Appleby, do sit still. I hear the bridal party coming. Of course, I didn't just hear them, but I was sure they'd be along in a minute, and I knew it wouldn't do to move our seats anyway, as if we weren't satisfied with them. The church was decorated beautiful. Eleanor's folks must have cleaned out their greenhouse to put into it. Besides tons of greens from the city. Pretty near the whole of Wrenville was there, and I must say the church was a credit to the Wrenville dressmakers. I could pick out all their different fits without any trouble. There was Arabella Satellies. She shapes her backs like the top of a coffin, or sometimes they remind me more of a kite. And Selling Anne Hodds, she makes them square, and old Mrs. Tucker's. You can always tell hers by the way the armholes draw. She makes the ministers' wives. But they'd every one of them done their level best and was proud of them. Well, when the organ, it had been playing low and soft all the time, changed off into the wedding march and the bridesmaids, eight of them marched up the aisle behind the eight yushas. I tell you, Miss Halliday, it was a sight. They was all in pink gauzy stuff. I happened to feel one of them as she went by, but I couldn't tell what was made of. It seemed dreadful flimsy, and big flat hats all made of roses on their heads, and carrying bunches of perflonged steam roses, so big that they had to hold them in their arms like young babes. Eleanor came behind them all, walking with her father. He always was a small, built man, and with her long trail and her veil spreading out so, why, I declare, you couldn't hardly see him. I whispered to John that they looked more as if Eleanor was going to give her par away than him her. Eleanor's dress was elegant, only awful plain. It was made in New York at Greenleafs. I know, because when I was upstairs looking for my sunshade, I told you about that, didn't I? I happened to get into Eleanor's room by mistake, and there was the box that came in right on the bed before my eyes. Well, when May was all past, I kept looking round me for the groom and wondering how I had come to miss him, when all at once John nudged me, and there he was, right in front of me, the minister beginning to marry him. And where he had sprung from, I can't tell you this livid minute. Came in from the vestry, did he? Well, now, I never would have thought of that. Well, when they was most married, the most ridiculous thing happened. You see, Eleanor's father, in stepping back after giving her away, had put his foot right down on her trail and never noticed. At the same time for the prayer, Eleanor pulled and pulled. They was to kneel down on two big white satin cushions in front of them, but her father never budged, just stood there with his eyes shut and his head bowed as about as anything. And before Eleanor could stop him, her husband, he was most her husband anyway, had knelt right down onto the cushion and his eyes shut too. I suppose, and the minister had to pray over him that way. I could see Eleanor's shoulders shaking under her veil and, of course, it was ridiculous if it hadn't been so solemn. And then they all marched down the aisle with the bride and groom leading the procession. Eleanor's veil was put back and I noticed that she was half laughing yet and her cheeks were real pink and her eyes sort of bright and moist. She looked real handsome. Good gracious, Miss Halliday, don't ever tell me that's six o'clock. And I haven't told a thing about the presence and who was there and Eleanor's clothes and what they had to eat. Why? They didn't even use their own chinaware. They had a coloured caterer from New York and he brought everything. All the dishes and tablecloths and spoons and forks besides the refreshments. I know because just after he came I happened to carry over my eleven best forks. John broke the dozenth trying to pry the cork out of a bottle of raspberry vinegar the year we were married. I never took a fork to pry with and offered to loan them for the wedding but they didn't need them. So I just stayed a minute or two in the butler's pantry and then went home but I saw the caterer unpacking. There, I knew I'd stay too long. There's John coming in the gate after me. I must go this blessed minute. End of the wedding by Jenny Betts Hartzwick.