52. CHAPTER LII.
EVA'S CONSULTATIONS.
“NOW see here,” said Jim, coming in upon Eva as
she sat alone in her parlor, “I've got something
on my mind I want to talk with you about. You see,
Alice and I are to be married at the same time with
Angie and St. John.”
“Yes, I see it.”
“Well, now, what I want to say is, that I really hope
there won't be anything longer and harder and more circumlocutory
to be got through with on the occasion than
just what's in the prayer-book, for that's all I can stand.
I can't stand prayer-book with the variations, now I
really can't.”
“Well, Jim, what makes you think there will be
prayer-book with the variations?”
“Oh, well, I attended a ritualistic wedding once, and
there was such an amount of processing and chanting,
and ancient and modern improvements, that it was just
like a show. There were the press reporters elbowing
and pushing to get the best places to write it up for the
papers, and, for my part, I think it's in confounded bad
taste, and I could n't stand it; you know, now, I'm a
nervous fellow, and if I've got to take part in the exercises,
they 'll have to `draw it mild,' or Allie and I will
have to secede and take it by ourselves. I could n't go
such a thing as that wedding; I never should come out
alive.”
“Well, Jim, I don't believe there's any reason for
apprehension. In the first place, the ceremony, as to its
mode and form, always is supposed to be conducted according
to the preferences of the bride's family, and we
all of us should be opposed to anything which would
draw remark and comment, as being singular and unusual
on such an occasion.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” said Jim.
“And then, Jim, Mr. St. John's uncle, Dr. Gracey, is
to perform the ceremony, and he is one of the most respected
of the conservative Episcopal clergymen in New
York; and it is entirely out of the question to suppose
that he would take part in anything of the sort you fear,
or which would excite comment as an innovation. Then,
again, I think Mr. St. John himself has so much natural
refinement and just taste that he would not wish his own
wedding to become a theme for gossip and a gazing stock
for the curious.”
“Well, I did n't know about St. John; I was a little
afraid we should be obliged to do something or other,
because they did it in the catacombs, or the Middle
Ages, or in Edward the Sixth's time, or some such
dodge. I thought I'd just make sure.”
“Well, I think Mr. St. John has gone as far in those
directions as he ever will go. He has been living alone
up to this winter. He has formed his ideas by himself
in solitude. Now he will have another half to himself;
he will see in part through the eyes, and feel through the
heart, of a sensible and discreet woman—for Angie is
that. The society he has met at our house in such men
as Dr. Campbell and others, has enlarged his horizon,—
given him new points of vision,—so that I think the too
great tendencies he may have had in certain directions
have been insensibly checked.”
“I wish they may,” said Jim, “for he is a good fellow,
and so much like one of the primitive Christians
that I really want him to get all the credit that belongs
to him.”
“Oh, well, you'll see, Jim. When a man is so sincere
and good, and labors with a good wife to help him, you'll
see the difference. But here comes little Mrs. Betsey,
Jim. I promised to get her up a cap for the occasion.”
“Well, I'm off; only be sure you make matters secure
about the ceremony,” and off went Jim, and in came
little Mrs. Betsey.
“It's so good of you, dear Mrs. Henderson, to undertake
to make me presentable. You know Dorcas has n't
the least interest in these things. Dorcas is so independent,
she never cares what the fashion is. Now,
she is n't doing a thing to get ready. She's just going
in that satin gown that she had made twenty years ago,
with a great lace collar as big as a platter; and she sits
there just as easy, reading `Pope's Essay on Man,' and
here I'm all in a worry; but I can't help it. I like to
look a little like other folks, you know. I do n't want
people to think I'm a queer old woman.”
“Certainly, it's the most natural thing in the world,”
said Eva, as she stepped into the little adjoining work-room,
and brought out a filmy cap, trimmed with the
most delicate shade of rosy lilac ribbons. “There!”
she said, settling it on Mrs. Betsey's head, and tying a
bow under her chin, “if anybody says you're not a
beauty in this, I'd like to ask them why?”
“I know it's silly at my age, but I do like pretty
things,” said Mrs. Betsey, looking at herself with approbation
in the glass, “and all the more that it's so very
kind of you, dear Mrs. Henderson.”
“Me? Oh, I like to do it. I'm a born milliner,”
said Eva.
“And now I want to ask a favor. Do you think it
would do for us to take our Dinah to church to see the
ceremony. I do n't know anybody that could enjoy it
more, and Dinah has so few pleasures.”
“Why, certainly. Dinah! my faithful adviser and
help in time of need? Why, of course, give my compliments
to her, and tell her I shall depend on seeing her
there.”
“Dinah is so delighted at the thought that your sister
and Mr. Fellows are coming to live with us, she is busy
cleaning their rooms, and does it with a will. You
know Mr. Fellows has just that gay, pleasant sort of
way that delights all the servants, and she says your
sister is such a beauty!”
“Well, be sure and tell Dinah to come to the wedding,
and she shall have a slice of the cake to dream on.”
“I think I shall feel so much safer when we have a
man in the house,” continued Mrs. Betsey. “You see
we have so much silver, and so many things of that kind,
and Dorcas frightens me to death, because she will have
the basket lugged up into our room at night. I tell her
if she'd only set it outside in the entry, then if the
burglars came they could just go off with it, without
stopping to murder us; but if it was in our room, why,
of course, they would. The fact is, I have got so
nervous about burglars that I am up and down two or
three times a night.”
“But you have Jack to take care of you.”
“Jack is a good watch dog—he's very alert; but the
trouble is, he barks just as loud when there is n't anything
going on as when there is. Night after night, that
dog has started us both up with such a report, and I'd
go all over the house and find nothing there. Sometimes
I think he hears people trying the doors or windows.
Altogether, I think Jack frightens me more than
he helps, though I know he does it all for the best, and I
tell Dorcas so when he wakes her up. You know experienced
people always do say that a small dog is the very
safest thing you can have; but when Mr. Fellows comes
I shall really sleep peaceably. And now, Mrs. Henderson,
you do n't think that light mauve silk of mine will
be too young-looking for me?”
“No, indeed,” said Eva. “Why should n't we all
look as young as we can?”
“I have n't worn it for more than thirty years; but the
silk is good as ever, and your little dress-maker has made
it over with an over-skirt, and Dinah is delighted with it,
and says it makes me look ten years younger!”
“Oh! well I must come over and see it on you.”
“Would you care?” said Mrs. Betsey, delighted.
“How good you are; and then I'll show you the toilette
cushions I've been making for the dear young ladies; and
Dorcas is going to give each of them a pair of real old
India vases that have been in the family ever since we
can remember.”
“Why, you'll be robbing yourselves.”
“No, indeed; it would be robbing ourselves not to
give something, after all the kindness you've shown us.”
And Eva went over to the neighboring house with
Mrs. Betsey; and entered into all the nice little toilette
details with her; and delighted Dinah with an invitation
in person; and took a sympathizing view of Dinah's new
bonnet and shawl, which she pronounced entirely adequate
to the occasion; and thus went along, sewing little
seeds of pleasure to make her neighbors happier—seeds
which were to come up in kind thoughts and actions on
their part by and by.
