"Who are you going to marry, Rilla?" she asked feebly.
"Susan, darling, I am not the happy bride. Miranda Pryor is going to
marry Joe Milgrave tomorrow afternoon while her father is away in town.
A war-wedding, Susan--isn't that thrilling and romantic? I never was so
excited in my life."
The excitement soon spread over Ingleside, infecting even Mrs. Blythe
and Susan.
"I'll go to work on that cake at once," vowed Susan, with a glance at
the clock. "Mrs. Dr. dear, will you pick over the fruit and beat up the
eggs? If you will I can have that cake ready for the oven by the
evening. Tomorrow morning we can make salads and other things. I will
work all night if necessary to get the better of Whiskers-on-the-moon."
Miranda arrived, tearful and breathless.
"We must fix over my white dress for you to wear," said Rilla. "It will
fit you very nicely with a little alteration."
To work went the two girls, ripping, fitting, basting, sewing for dear
life. By dint of unceasing effort they got the dress done by seven
o'clock and Miranda tried it on in Rilla's room.
"It's very pretty--but oh, if I could just have a veil," sighed
Miranda. "I've always dreamed of being married in a lovely white veil."
Some good fairy evidently waits on the wishes of war-brides. The door
opened and Mrs. Blythe came in, her arms full of a filmy burden.
"Miranda dear," she said, "I want you to wear my wedding-veil tomorrow.
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