Nobody looked at the bride except Susan, who
never dragged her fascinated eyes from Miranda's face--all the others
were gazing at the dog. Miranda had been trembling with nervousness but
as soon as Sir Wilfrid began his performance she forgot it. All that she
could think of was that her dear dog was dying and she could not go to
him. She never remembered a word of the ceremony.
Rilla, who in spite of Jims, had been trying her best to look rapt and
romantic, as beseemed a war bridesmaid, gave up the hopeless attempt,
and devoted her energies to choking down untimely merriment. She dared
not look at anybody in the room, especially Mrs. Dead Angus, for fear
all her suppressed mirth should suddenly explode in a most
un-young-ladylike yell of laughter.
But married they were, and then they had a wedding-supper in the
dining-room which was so lavish and bountiful that you would have
thought it was the product of a month's labour. Everybody had brought
something. Mrs. Dead Angus had brought a large apple-pie, which she
placed on a chair in the dining-room and then absently sat down on it.
Neither her temper nor her black silk wedding garment was improved
thereby, but the pie was never missed at the gay bridal feast. Mrs. Dead
Angus eventually took it home with her again. Whiskers-on-the-moon's
pacifist pig should not get it, anyhow.
That evening Mr. and Mrs.
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