The Pleasantville press. (Pleasantville, N.J.) 1912-1929, 1927-01-25
Three Minutes Late
to His Wedding
BY CLARISsA MACKIE

DETER DICK JONES was dress
L ing for his wedding. His keen,
dark face was strained as he strug-
gled with his tie, and it did not
clear even when he shrugged into
his coat and stood forth as hand
some q bridegroom as any girl
could dream about. Perhaps he
was thinking Of the first time he
had dressed for wedding-his
own-and had stood there in the
chancel waiting for a bride who
never came-he would never forget
that awful period when he stood
there cold, impressive, waiting for
the arrival of Edith Mayse and her
bridal attendants. He stood alone
there, young Peter Dick, uncertain,
conscious of the curious eyes TO-
cused upon him. Even his best
man had been late.
Then he was summoned to the
vestry and the guests were dis
missed. He could barely remember
the feeling that he must be a mar
BILE statue to stand there in the
vestry and listen to some one tell
ing him that he had been Tilted
that Edith had eloped with the
best mani
Wen, Peter Dick Jones had
fought that down, down in the dust
under his feet, until people began
to say he never cared for Edith
after all, for he had even dined
with Edith Deyo and her husband.
Only once, though, not that he
cared any longer, for their action
had killed his love and respect for
ever. But the hurt to his pride
still chung.
Well, there was no danger now,
for lovely Sally Gray was as des-
perately in love with him as he was
with her, and as neither of them
had much money the wedding
would be very simple-not even a
best man.
II can carry my own wedding
ring, thank you" decided Peter
Dick. He felt for it nowhere 1t
was safe in his waistcoat pocket.
He had ordered the wedding bou-
quet days ago-lilies-of-the-valley,
which were to fall in a lovely
shower down Saily's white satin
dress.
He glanced at his watch. The
wedding was at noon, and the
hands pointed to eleven-thirty now.
might as well start now" he
thought, and adjusting his bouton-
Mere he telephoned for car he
had ordered from a garage, and
soon he was set down before the
vestry door of the church. There
was no one in the vestry but he
did not wait, this wedding was to
be a very simple affair. Sally's
mother had told him to go to the
church and at quarter to twelve
to 60 to the chancel and wait there.
Peter Dick walked in, his head
high, conscious that people were
moving into the pews. He mounted
the chancel steps and stood there,
handsome, pale, composed outward
ly. Within he was combating an
old fear that assailed him now.
Suppose Sally should fail him
now7 Reason told him that Sally's
love was as solid as Gibraltar IT.
self, yet, for little while he stood
there, staring at familiar stained
glass window-it was familiar in
deed-years ago he had stared at 1t
for a full hour-now an organ
played softly, and he heard the
rustling of people coming and go
ing. He could hear whispers and
at last he looked through his eye
lashes at the people.
The people! The people coming
and going and there were several
cleaning women moving about their
work of busting the pews. Except
for them the church was empty.
There was not even a ffower-yet-
here was a familiar chancel and a
familiar stained window. Sud-
denly light broke upon Peter Dick
Jones.
This church was st. Paul's,
North. where he had waited so
long for Edith-and he was to be
married at noon to Sally Gray in
st. Pauls, South. on the other side
of the city. 1t was two minutes to
twelve nowi
The cleaners looked amazed at
the bridegroom as he shot across
to the vestry. They had about de-
cided that the solitary figure was
that of bridegroom rehearsing his
part. Peter Dick damned on his
hat and ran for a car. In mo-
ment they were tearing across town
to st. Paul's, South. They were
three minutes late, when Peter
Dick rushed into the church, and