, 1888-02-23
THE WEDDING BONNET.

her young days to n syllable of love and
matrimony, now, at the G of 55, she
suddenly astonished all her relatives by
bidding them to her marriage with Luke
Potter, n shrewd, well to do farmer, who
had lived n neighbor to her all his life.
with all her property, and her set, par
ticular ways it can't be possible!'' we
each and all exclaimed in different keys,
dropping our letters of invitation.
/ had a special call to present myself
n few days before the marriage feast,
being considered in the family q ~favorite
of Aunt Rhoda's. Though she had never
been quite ready to invite me to the farm
house on n visit, she had said plainly within
the past five years TO Job, her cousin on
the fathers side, who, if any earthly
power could be said to influence Miss
Hemenway in financial matters, was the
one, 81 shall cave n good piece of my
prop'ty to Mehitable Farrar' chat is my
Nance; / want you all to know it, so as
10 understand you won't get much,n
which was distinct if not polite, and
earned for me much disfavor in the
family.
Now to Cousin John. He was Bath
sheba's son, Aunt Rhoda's ~favorite sister,
who married early and went away from
the homestead with her husband TO settle
in h was then the 'far west" now n
flourishing town in Illinois. Mr.. Feather.
ston had the knack of making money,
and in q few years wore himself out, but
had the pleasure of handing to his wife a
goodly amount of stocks and bonds and
some real estate. She soon following
him, the property was allowed to roll up
for little John, the son, who kept pace
with it, running a race On his sturdy
legs, TO find at manhood n nice fortune
awaiting him, into possession of which
he came, his mind stocked by the grand
mother who had the honor Of bringing
him up with his own Importance, and a
certainty that every girl he saw was
after his money.
He was handsome as n picture, the
aunts all declared, md his name and
fame went down in the family annals
carrying the idea of a being superior to
nearly every other creature on this lower
sphere. He was now 2S. | had always
heard of him since / could remember,
but had never seen him. That there was
n person whom / could dislike more
thoroughly Than this same Cousin John,
1 had never believed. Now it was a
fact, for we had met, he arriving at the
Hemenway homestead the day before tho
wedding.
Aunt Rhoda was to perpetrate matri-
mony on the first night of the New Year.
1t came on Tuesday, showing, and pitt
lessly cold. She had allowed me that
day to do little services for her, thus
showing her favor, so at about 7 o'clock
we were none of us astonished to hear
her say: Run, Hitty, and get my bon
net from the spare room cupboard. It's
about time TO put il on"
l started, glad of something to do, and
ran nimbly to the great spare room,
reached up on tiptoe and took down from
the closet shelf the precious green box
containing the wedding bonnet. Half
across the room the glare of the candles
flaming in their tall silver holders before
the mirror of the dressing table in which
they stood reflected gave my evil geniuI
an idea.
Try it on, Hittyi it's good luck"
Quick as thought l drew out the we'd
ding bonnet, and threw it over my brown
braids. II was a heavy affair of gray
shirred silk, without the scrap of a bow
to enliven it, and only one dull, stiff
feather, looking for all the world like
Aunt Rhoda herself, set straight in the
center. And as l pulled it into place
with the eager fingers of eighteen on n
naughty prank, he old thing settled dis
mally from its own weight over my light
crimps. l laughed aloud, it was so ludi-
CrUusly the opposite of n festival bonnet,
just as q voice struck my ear.
VERY appropriate. Don't, pray, re-
it." l turned to see Cousin John
in the doorway.
Much Obliged for your opinion, which
was unasked, - l managed to say, coolly,
dashing aside the headgear, where, l did
not stop TO see, and turning on him. He
bowed with that supercilious smile Of
his. and took himself off. Bursting with
indignation, / set about picking up the
bonnet. l could not find it. Not with
dropping to my hands and knees to
search the ingram carpet could that
headgear be brought to light. 1t was
only when n direful smell of something
burning struck my olfactories that it
flashed upon mo where it was. l flew
back to the heavy claw-footed dressing
table that stood ION n bias in the corner
of the room. How l moved it l never could
tell. At last the bonnet was in my hand,
the half feather that remained still burn
ing smartly. Atsight of it l gave n cry be-
fore / could control myself. That / had
broken up the marriage 1 had not n doubt.
L knew my aunt well enough to believe
her wiling TO give up her greatest treas
ure rather than to break one of the pro-
prieties of life. And to be married with
out Il bonnet was, in her eyes, a custom
only fit for silly little things not yet
escaped from their teens. And there
those wedding candles blinlied and fiared
merrily, rs if glad they had done it.
To reach the village m%illiner, Miss
Slack, was my only hope. l knew where
her little shop was, having been dis
patched there the day previous for some
extra lutestring ribbon to tie up the
pieces of cake. No time to lose. Steps
sound along the entry. Even now 1
may he latel
Something's burning!' exclaimed a
voice, just rs escaped, wedding bonnet
in hand. through an opposite door and
down n dark, little used passage. 1t led
10 the Lack yard, / knew, and out on the