_ PART ONE CHAPTER XI
Late spring brought preparations for M'ri's wedding. Rhody Crabbe's needle and fingers flew in rapturous speed, and there was likewise engaged a seamstress from Lafferton. Rhody had begged for the making of the wedding gown, and when it was finished David went to fetch it home.
"It's almost done, David, and you tell M'ri the last stitch was a loveknot. It's most a year sence you wuz here afore, a-waitin' fer her blue waist tew be finished. Remember, don't you, David?"
He remembered, and as she stitched he sat silently reviewing that year, the comforts received, the pleasures pursued, and, best of all, the many things he had learned, but the recollection that a year ago his mother had been living brought a rush of sad memories and blotted out happier thoughts.
"I wish yer ma could hev seen Mart and M'ri merried. She was orful disapp'inted when they broke off."
There was no reply. Rhody's sharp little eyes, in upward glance, spied the trickling tear; she looked quickly away and stitched in furious haste.
"But, my!" she continued, as if there had been no pause, "how glad she would be to know 't was you as fetched it around."
David looked up, diverted and inquiring.
"Yes; I learnt it from M'ri. She told me about the flowers you give him. I thought it was jest sweet in you, David. You done good work thar."
"Miss Rhody," said David earnestly, "maybe some day I can get you a sweetheart."
"'T ain't no use, David," she sighed. "No one wants a plain critter like me."
"Lots of them don't marry for looks," argued David sagely. "Besides, you look fine in your black silk, and your hair crimped. Joe thinks your picture is great. He's got it on a shelf over his fireplace at the ranch."
"Most likely some cowboy'll see it and lose his heart," laughed Miss Rhody, "but thar, the weddin' dress is all done. You go home and quit thinkin' about gittin' me a man. I ain't ha'nted by the thought of endin' single."
Great preparations for the wedding progressed at the Brumble farm. For a week Pennyroyal whipped up eggs and sugar, and David ransacked the woods for evergreens and berries with which to decorate the big barn, where the dance after the wedding was to take place.
The old farmhouse was filled to overflowing on the night of the wedding. After the ceremony, Miss Rhody, resplendent in the black silk and waving hair loosed from the crimping pins that had confined it for two days and nights, came up to David.
"My, David, I've got the funniest all over feelin' from seein' Mart and M'ri merried! I was orful afeerd I'd cry."
"Sit down, Miss Rhody," said David, gallantly bringing her a chair.
"Didn't M'ri look perfeckly beyewtiful?" she continued, after accomplishing the pirouette that prevented creases. "And Mart, he looked that proud, and solemn too. It made me think of that gal when she spoke 'Curfew shall not ring tewnight' at the schoolhouse. Every one looks fine. I hain't seen Barnabas so fussed up sence Libby Sukes' funyral. It makes him look real spry. And whoever got Larimer Sasser to perk up and put on a starched shirt!"
"I think," confided David, "that Penny got after him. She had him in a corner when he came, and she tied his necktie so tight I was afraid she would choke him."
"Look at old Miss Pankey, David. She, as rich as they make 'em, and a-wearin' that old silk! It looks as ef it hed bin hung up fer you and Jud to shoot at. Ain't she a-glarin' and a-sniffin' at me, though? Say, David, you write Joe that if M'ri did look the purtiest of any one that my dress cost more'n any one's here, and showed it, too. I hope thar'll be a lot of occasions to wear it to this summer. M'ri is a-goin' to give a reception when she gits back from her tower, and that'll be one thing to wear it at. Ain't Jud got a mean look? He's as crooked as a dog's hind leg. But, say, David, that's a fine suit you're a-wearin'. You look handsome. Thar ain't a stingy hair on Barnabas' head. He's doin' jest as good by you as he is by Jud. Don't little Janey look like an angel in white, and them lovely beads Joe give her? I can't think of nothin' else but that little Eva you read me about. I shouldn't wonder a bit, David, if I come to yer and Janey's weddin' yet!" she said, as Janey came dancing up to them.
A slow flush mounted to his forehead, but Janey laughed merrily.
"I've promised Joe I'd wait for him," she said roguishly.
"She's only foolin' and so wuz he," quickly spoke Miss Rhody, seeing the hurt look in David's eyes. "Barnabas," she asked, stopping him as he passed, "you air a-goin' to miss M'ri turrible. You could never manige if it wa'n't fer Penny. Won't she hev the time of her life cleanin' up after this weddin'? She'll enjoy it more'n she did gettin' ready fer it."
"I hope Penny won't go to gittin' merried--not till Janey's growed up."
"David's a great help to you, too, Barnabas."
"Dave! I don't know how I ever got along afore he came. He's so willin' and so honest. He's as good as gold. Only fault he's got is a quick temper. He's doin' purty fair with it, though. If only Jud--"
He stopped, with a sigh, and Rhody hastened to change the subject.
"You're a-lookin' spry to-night, Barnabas. I hain't seen you look so spruce in a long time."
"You look mighty tasty yerself, Rhody."
This interchange of compliments was interrupted by the announcement of supper.
"I never set down to sech a repast," thought Miss Rhody. "I'm glad I didn't feed much to-day. I don't know whether to take chickin twice, or to try all them meltin', flaky lookin' pies. And jest see them layer cakes!"
After supper adjournment was made to the barn, where the fiddles were already swinging madly. Every one caught the spirit, and even Miss Rhody finally succumbed to Barnabas' insistence. Pennyroyal captured Uncle Larimy, and when Janey whirled away in the arms of a schoolmate, David, who had never learned to dance, stood isolated. He felt lonely and depressed, and recalled the expression in which Joe Forbes had explained life after he had acquired a stepmother. "I was always on the edge of the fireside," he had said.
"Dave," expostulated Uncle Barnabas, as soon as he could get his breath after the last dance, "you'd better eddicate yer heels as well as yer head. It's unnateral fer a colt and a boy not to kick up their heels. You don't never want to be a looker-on at nuthin' excep' from ch'ice. You'd orter be a stand-in on everything that's a-goin' instead of a stand-by. The stand-bys never git nowhar." _