The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1937-04-07

sleep and awakening, not quite
realizing the significance of the
day.
And then, as the mocker went
on with his song, and other birds
began to chirp in a growing
chorus of gladness because the
day had come, she remembered.
This was her wedding day.
She was going to marry Edward.
Swiftly she sprang out of bed. 1t
was still very early, too early for
the sun, but there was a soft
freshness and fragrance, a
springy smell in the cool air.
Last nights fears had vanished
with the night. She was early
but there was much to do!
Quietly, carefully, she bathed and
dressed, putting on her last pair
of new chiffon hose, her Christ
mas white satin slip that had
seemed too nice to wear under the
plain black and white tailor suit
before.
When she was completely
dressed, she got out her little
overnight bag, packed it swiftly
and methodically. Powder,
brushes, toothpaste, an extra
blouse, fresh underwear, her best
silk nightie, a blue silk Japanese
kimono with wistaria on it, pair
of blue mules.
Nice, but not very bridal. Not
what she'd have if her mother
knew that she
No, she wouldn't think about
that again.
It was almost seven, so she put
a little more powder on her nose,
retouched her lips. Strengthened
her hat, and tiptoed down the
stairs.
There was no one in sight. She
set down the little bag. and
walked over to the little orange
tree near the side fence. There
we're some blossoms on it, bios
SONS and small greenish gold
fruit.
Brazenly she broke off a spray
of blossom, pinned the waxy-white
flowers, the glossy green leaves, on
the lapel of her suit.
II don't care" she thought. IT
don't care if I'm not dressed in
white. I'm going to have orange
blossoms anyway"
They were married.
They had stood together, in an
empty church, and been married.
She hadn't been in the least
ervous. All sorts of queer
thoughts had gone scuttling
through her head. She wondered
who the two witnesses were, who
had come, with such alacrity, at
the minister's summons. They
looked like housewives. House
wives who had hastily buttoned
coats over wash dresses, and
come to look upon romance
again.
She thought Of Charlie, and
how he always hu m m e d in
churches. She hoped she looked
as nice as she thought she did.
She wondered if her mother
would be very hurt, because the
wedding was a secret.
She looked at the minister,
and wondered if he were really
English, or if he just talked that
way because he thought it
sounded we'll. She looked at Ed
ward, and thought, for the hun
dredth time, that she'd never
seen anyone so good looking.
From his fair, well-brushed hair
to his cleaning brown shoes, he
was perfect. Perfect. And hers.
And when it was over and the
minister put aside his formal
manner, in the way that one
takes off a too-tight shoe, and
smiled, and said he hoped that
they'd be very, very happy, she
knew that it was all over and she
had hardly heard a word.
Happiness makes you selfish, she
thought, as she stood beside Ed.
ward in the telegraph office later,
as he wrote a telegram to Julie,
explaining that they'd had engine
trouble and couldn't get back. but
Julie wasn't to worry; Marie would
spend the night with Marjorie
Samson, at Riverside, and would
be home some time tomorrow
Somewhere in the back Of her
head, she knew that it was all
wrong, that Julie would wonder
and worry, and that she might
even try to telephone the Samsons
who weren't at Riverside at all.
But she was too happy really tn
worry. She just stood beside Ed.
ward; touched the gray flannel of
his coat sleeve and said:
IF you think it's all right, I do.
too"
Ito be continued)