he bed. But here am I a-chavering with
you all, with time a-flying and no chance of putting salt on her tail
this day. Please, Tom Mayberry, go down to the store and buy a nickel's
worth of starch, and it's none of your business how I want to use it.
I'm going to look a surprise for you myself, before sundown."

"Well, how did you get along with him, honeybird?" she asked eagerly,
as they ascended the front steps together, while the Doctor strode down
the Road on his errand.

"Beautifully!" exclaimed the singer lady with enthusiasm and the very
faintest of blushes.

"I thought so from his looks," answered the beguiled young Doctor's
wily mother. "A man always do have that satisfied martyr-smile when he
thinks he are doing something just to please a woman. Now, honey-child,
you ain't got nothing to do but frill out your own sweet self; and make
a job of it while you are about it." With which command Mother Mayberry
dismissed Miss Wingate up the stairs to her dormer-window room.

And it is safe to say that no two such teeming hours ever fleeted their
seconds away on Providence Road as did those ensuing. The whole village
buzzed and bumbled and swarmed in and out from house to house like a
colony of clover-drunken bees on an August afternoon. Laughter floated
on the air and mingled with banter and song, while the aroma of flesh
pots and fine spices drifted from huge waiters being hurriedly carried
from down and up the Road and into the Pratt gate. The wedding supper
was being laid on improvised tables in Bettie's side yard, with Judy
Pike in command, seconded by Mrs. Peavey with her skirts tucked up out
of possible harm and her mind on the outlook for any possible disaster,
from the wilting of the jelly mold to a sad streak in the bride's cake,
baked by the bride herself with perfectly happy confidence.

Then on the heels of the excitement came a quiet half-hour devoted to
the completing of all toilets behind closed family doors. A shrill
squeal issuing now and then from an open window told its tale of
tortures being undergone, and a smothered masculine ejaculation added a
like testimony.

At exactly a quarter to five, Miss Wingate issued from her room after a
completely satisfactory seance with her mirror, and from the front
steps looked down in dismay upon a scene of rebellion, that threatened
at any moment to become one of riot.

On the grass beside the porch stood a group of little girls all
starched, frilled,