 CHAPTER XI. An Uncle and a Wedding. Dimple was off-beat-times the next morning. Creeping quietly out of bed, she left Florence sound asleep. Mama! she whispered softly, as she opened her mama's door. What time is it? Has Uncle Heath come? It is half past six, said her mama, and Uncle Heath will be here in half an hour. May I put on my blue frock? Yes. Dimple slipped back, and was not long in dressing. Florence sleepily opened her eyes, as Dimple was ready to leave the room. Oh, Dimple, are you dressed? She said, sitting up in bed. Has the bear rung? No, said Dimple, but Uncle Heath is coming, you know, and I want to meet him. Come down when you are ready. Florence, being wide awake by this time, concluded to get up, and Dimple ran downstairs, patting the bellow-store with one hand as she went. When she reached the lowest step, she was called by a pair of arms, and found her face close to Uncle Heath's whiskers. Oh, Uncle Heath! she cried. Do let me hug you. I am so glad to see you. I am gladder than anybody. I hope not, said her father from the doorway. Yes, I am, said Dimple, as her uncle carried her into the parlor, and held her on his knee. Uncle Heath, are you very happy? Indeed I am, said he, laughing, as did Dimple's papa and mama. Quiet at home, thrust, said her papa. The reason I asked, she went on, playing with her uncle's watch chain, is that I heard papa say the other day, I am so glad for dear old Heath. He has reason to be, responded her uncle. Dimple, how should you like a new aunt and cousin? Oh, Uncle, is it Rock? Well, not Rock altogether, laughed he. Rock's mother as well. Please tell me, Uncle Heath. So I will, little girl. Rock's mother is going to be your gray-headed uncle's wife. That makes Rock your cousin, doesn't it? Yes, said Dimple, cuddling up to him. But you are not gray-headed, Uncle Heath. Only gray-templed, she said, softly patting each side of his face. She seems perfectly satisfied, said he, looking at his brother. Perfectly, he answered, you could not have pleased her better. But Uncle Heath, said Dimple, I didn't know you knew Mrs. Hardy. I knew her long time ago, when she wasn't Mrs. Hardy, but Dora West. Long ago, he repeated, gently stroking her hair. Why didn't you marry her, then? I wanted to, said he, simply. But I couldn't. Do you want to be Bridesmaid, Dimple? Oh, Uncle, could I? Yes, indeed, and Rock groomsman. We are such a young, frivolous couple, we couldn't think of having a grown-up young lady for Bridesmaid. Dimple laughed and sat in supreme content on her uncle's knee till the breakfast bell rang. Florence, I know all about it, she cried as Florence came in. And I am going to be Bridesmaid, and I know why Uncle Heath is happy, and why Rock can be my cousin. Isn't it lovely? Florence looked puzzled, but after a clearer explanation agreed with Dimple, that it was perfectly lovely. Rock came over after breakfast, with a message for Mrs. Dollas, and Dimple ran out to meet him, crying, Oh, Rock! Your papa is here, and you are going to be my cousin, really and truly. Did you know it? Yes, I knew, said he, and I am real glad. Where is Mr. Dollas? My Uncle Heath or Papa? Your Uncle Heath. He has gone to see your mama, I think. And oh, Rock, we are going to be Bridesmaids, you and I. No, I mean, I am going to be Bridesmaid, and you groomsmen. Yes, and something else I know, too, said Rock. While mama goes on her wedding trip, I am to come here to stay. Oh, Rock! exclaimed Dimple, clapping her hand. That will be lovely, too. How long? Three days, I think. Won't we have good times? laughed Dimple, dancing up and down. Do come sit down and talk about it. Are you glad you are going to have my Uncle Heath for your papa? Yes, indeed, said Rock. And are you going to live here? No, in Baltimore. Oh, dear! that is all that spoils it. Never mind, said Rock. I shouldn't wonder if you were to come here summers, and I'll tell you, Dimple, maybe your mother will let you come visit us next winter, and I will take you slaying. That comforted Dimple somewhat. Where is the wedding to be? I never thought to ask, said she. At church, at half-past nine Thursday morning. Then we come back to your house to breakfast, and mama and Mr. Dulles go away on the twelve o'clock train. When you say Mr. Dulles, I think you mean my papa, said Dimple. I wish you would call Uncle Heath papa. But he isn't my papa yet. Well, three days doesn't make much difference, and you need only say it to me. Well, papa and mama, said Rock laughing, will be back Sunday evening, and one day we all go away. Don't talk about that part of it. I don't want to think of it. Here Dimple's mama called her, and she went upstairs. Wait till I come back, Rock. She said as she went out. I want to talk some more. What do you want with me, mama? She asked as she entered her mama's room. I want to try on your bridesmaid's rock. Oh, mama, is that it? She exclaimed as her mama lifted a soft white mole from the bed. Yes, and you are to wear a white hat and carry a basket of flowers. Isn't it odd that my little daughter should be bridesmaid for someone who was once her mama's bridesmaid, and who used to play with her when she was a little girl? Dimple laughed at the idea, as she put her arms through the armholes, and said, It is also funny, mama, that I can't straighten it out at all. It is like a fairy tale, and oh, mama, I look like a fairy in this rock. Isn't it lovely? I wish I might go down and show it to Rock and Florence. Very well, you may. Only be very careful not to catch it on anything. I will be, mama, as she danced off to display her finery. See, Rock, see, Florence, don't I look almost like a fairy? She exclaimed, as she went to the library, when their boat were sitting, each in a big chair. Oh, you do look sweet, they said, and Dimple smiled and blushed at the praise, quiet delighted with herself. But presently she looked at Florence a little gravely, and said, Florence, I feel so selfish. Do you care very much that I am going to be bridesmaid and you not? No, indeed, for I am to be bridesmaid when my sister is married anyhow, and I would so much rather see it all then to be right in it. So Dimple went up to take off her frock, quiet reassured. Mama, what are you going to wear? White, too? she asked. No, gray, with pink roses, and Mrs. Hardy will wear pale lavender and white roses. I thought brides always wore white. Not always, answered her mama. Long before half past nine, on the eventful morning, Dimple stood ready, slippers hat and all. Her basket of flowers tied with her white ribbons on the piano, and she felt very grand indeed when the carriage with rock in it drove around for her. She had been up by daybreak, around to the church with flowers. Upstairs to see what her bridesmaid toilet was all right, down into the kitchen to ask Sylvie for a peep at the wedding-cake, which, black with fruit inside and white with frosting out, stood on the side-board. Then there was a table to see, and little helpful things to do for her mama while she arranged it. Flowers together, a great bow of fresh roses in a center. Then it was such a delight after she and Florence were dressed to watch her mama get ready, to see her dainty laces, and hold her flowers ready for her to pin on. At last a great moment really arrived, and she found herself stepping up the aisle with rock, feeling a little embarrassment, though it was a very quiet wedding, only a few near-friends being present. But she bore herself very bravely, holding her flower basket very tightly, and keeping time with her slippered feet to the wedding march. She did not dare even to look at rock, but kept her eyes that fastly cast down. She and Rock were the first to get back to the house, and when the new Mrs. Dulles reached there, Dimple rushed up to her and gave a frantic hug, calling her dear Aunt Dora, then as frantic a hug was bestowed upon her uncle. She danced through the rooms like a willow the wisp, hardly willing to sit at the table long enough to eat anything at all. When the bridal pair drove away to the depot, a shower of rice and old shoes were flung after them by all the children, bubbles included. After the house was quiet again, Dimple, Florence and Rock sat talking it over in the parlour. "- Were you frightened when you woke up the aisle?" asked Florence. "- A little, but I thought about looking at my slippers and didn't see the people. Did I look all right?" "- Yes, as lovely as possible, and I never should have thought you were frightened. What did you do with the flowers? And oh, Dimple, who had the lovely little figure on the top of the cake?" "- I know, said Rock. I heard Mama tell Dimple's mother that the bridesmaid ought to have that, and I think so too." "- Oh, said Dimple, I think you ought to have it, Rock. No, indeed, that would be a fine way to do, I must say. It is to be yours. Mama said so, and that settles it." "- Well, said Dimple, but I have so much it seems to me. Florence, isn't it funny for Rock to have a new papa? Everything turns out so oddly. Don't you know how provoked we were that day when Bubbles told us that Mama was bringing a boy out to see us?" "- Now that boy is your cousin," said Rock. "- Yes, and I am glad, too," replied Dimple, giving his hand a little affection at pet. I never knew boys could be so nice till I saw you. Rock laughed. "- That's a pretty big compliment," he said. "- It isn't a compliment, it's the truth. And the compliment can't be true, I suppose. Why, I don't know. Can it?" "- Of course, though just flattering words aren't always the truth. I've heard ladies to come to see my Mama says what a sweet child your little one is. Rock said it very effectively, and the girls laughed. And you know, Rock went on, they didn't know a thing about me, they just said it to make Mama feel pleased, and that's what I call flattery. "- Oh, yes, I think I see," said Dimple. The three days had followed were very merry ones for the children. They froliced from morning till night, and did more wonderful things than ever they had dreamed of doing before. Rock was the nicest sort of comrade, and they got all along without any fusses whatever. Sunday was their very last day together, for Florence was to go the next day, too, under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Heath Dulles, and her trunk was tending, packed, ready to be sand. "- Won't we have a pew for this morning?" said Dimple at the breakfast table. "- Five people. Rock, you must sit between Florence and me. I can sit next to Mama, and Florence next to Papa." "- Oh, no, let me sit by Auntie," said Florence. "- Very well," said Dimple. "- I can sit by Papa just as well, and if I get sleepy I can tumble over on him." Papa laughed and said it was a pleasant prospect for him. The church windows were open, a soft breeze fluttered the leaves outside, and the slow rustle of fans fluttered bonnet strings inside. Dimple leaned her head back against a pew, and looked out at the white clouds drifting across the sky, so dreamly and softly. She heard a bird singing in the trees, and now and then came back to consciousness of the minister's voice. And she caught a sentence here and there, but she could not fix her attention on the sermon at all. She was thinking of the dreaded tomorrow that would take her playmates away from her. The quiet and solemnity of the place only added to the sadness of her thoughts, and as the last hymn was being sung, the tears gathered in her eyes and dropped silently down on her book. Finally she could stand it no longer, but slip down on her knees, buried her face in the cushions, and fairly sobbed. No one knew what was the matter, and Mrs. Dallas looked distressed, fearing she was ill. Mr. Dallas leaned down toward her and whispered, Are you ill, Dimple? But she shook her head, and when the hymn was ended, he drew her close to him and put his arm around her, while she kept her face hidden on his shoulder. No one could tell what ailed her, as every question only brought a fresh burst of tears, and she walked home in silence. It was not until they were in the house that she could tell what affected her. Then her mother took her on her lap, and she had her cried out there, while Florence and Rock, looking much concerned, stood by. Tell me, daughter, what ails you? Her mother said, pushing back the curls from the little tear-strained face. It was so solemn, and I was thinking about everybody's going away tomorrow, she said between her sobs. When they sang, where friend holds fellowship with friend, though sundered far, and all that, and I couldn't stand it any longer, and the tears still rained down her face. At this Florence's eyes filled up, and she put her arms around Dimple, and they cried together, while it took Mrs. Dallas, Rock and Mr. Dallas, all three, to come for them. You will soon be going to school, Dimple, said her papa, and then you will have ever so many playmates. And you are coming to see us next winter, said Rock. And you will have mama left anyhow, said her mother, hugging her up close. So among them all, the tears were dried, and before dinner was over, they were all laughing as joyously as ever. The only excitement left was to watch for the arrival of Rock's mama and papa, who were to come that evening. In the meantime, while Rock and Florence were reading, Dimple heard Bubbles her Sunday lesson. She always taught her one of the hymns she had herself learned, and a Bible verse or two. Bubbles was not very quick at learning the verses, but delighted in the hymns, and sang with them with Dimple, with great vigor. This afternoon, however, it was quiet very soon to Dimple, for her cry had given her a headache, and she cut the lesson very short so as to get back to Rock and Florence. I shouldn't like to be a teacher, she said, throwing herself down on the lounge. I should, said Florence. I love my teacher at school dearly. She is the sweetest dearest thing, we girls almost fight over her. Do you? How funny! said Dimple. Why, yes, we take her flowers and candy, and big apples and oranges. Sometimes her desk is full. I am afraid I shan't like my teacher, said Dimple. Do you know her? Yes, a little. She has been here to tea. She isn't so awful, and I should like her perhaps, if I didn't know I had to go to school to her. Do you know many of the girls? One or two. You saw that girl who sat in front of us at church. She is one. You will get used to it real soon, said Rock. I felt just as you do before I went to school, and it was worse for a boy. The other boys just go for him, and I had a hard time for the first few weeks, but now I like it first rate. It is the getting used to it that I dread, said Dimple. That has to come first. Now, said Rock, Papa and Mama come first, and it is nearly time for them now. Let's go on the front porch and watch. It is so sunny there, said Dimple. Not if we see it at the end. Come on. So they went out and took up positions at the end of the porch. I want to see Mama and Gertrude and all awfully, said Florence. But indeed I hate to leave here, looking around. I shall miss the trees and flowers and all the sweet things. So shall I, said Rock. What a good time we have had this summer. Yes, haven't we, said Dimple, looking sober. Don't talk about it any more, said Rock. It makes my cousin Eleanor feel bad. This made Dimple smile, and presently they still coming up the street a carriage, which they felt sure would stop. They all ran down to the gate, and the carriage did draw up by the sidewalk, and Rock was the first to open the door of it, and in another minute was in his mother's arms. Then they all went into the house and made ready for tea. All that evening Dimple sat with one arm around Florence, and, although Rock was so glad to see his mother, he said that he would have Dimple so short a time that he must sit by her. And the three children sat on the steps, Rock holding Dimple's hand, and trying his best to cheer her up. But a more doorful face than appeared at the breakfast table could not be found. You must get your own door and Florence some nice flowers to take with them, said Mrs. Dollos to Dimple. My Aunt Dora, how queer that is, Mama! I have been wondering, is he Rock Hardy or Rock Dollos? He is Rock Hardy. I will never get his straight, she said, as she went to get the flowers. Uncle Heath, she said, after she had laid the flowers in damp cotton and put them in boxes. You may be very happy, but I am not, and I wish you would leave Rock with me. He smiled as he looked down at her, and said, I can't, dear, but you shall see him often. Baltimore is not very far away. Well, I am much obliged to you for making a cousin of him, she said, as she turned away. Poor little girl, said he to her mother. She takes this parting very much to heart. Yes, said her mother. She has never had any very intimate friends, and her cousins have never paid her as long a visit as Florence this time. As for Rock, he is the only boy she has ever liked at all, and he is a nice boy. You have acquired models on Heath. Yes, I think so too, said he. At last the trunks were all off. Celestine was dressed in her travelling frock, a grey wheel on her head. The children thought her very stylish. Poor Rubina, sighed Dimple, bravely trying to keep back the tears. Rock had volunteered to take charge of the two kittens, so Jett and Marble were mewing in a basket. And poor little Nixie, you will be lonely too, said Dimple, hiding her face in his furry coat. You will be sure to write to us, won't you, Dimple? said Florence, and tell all about school and everything. I will, said Dimple, choking up. Don't cry, said both Rock and Florence coaxingly. No, I will not. I made up my mind not to, because my mom and I think I didn't love her, answered Dimple, while her tears slowly trickled down her cheeks. At last all was ready, doll, kittens, and boxes, and the goodbyes were sad. Bubbles and Dimple at the gate waved handkerchiefs as long as they could see the carriage. Then Dimple turned slowly into the house, unable to keep back the torrent of tears, and after she went into the library, she buried her face in the sofa pillow, sobbing aloud. Then she felt a pair of arms clasp her knees, and so two tearful black eyes looking up into her face, while Bubbles' carousel voice said, Never mind, said Dimple, eyes here.