Joe, accompanied by the recovered Sir Wilfrid,
departed for the Four Winds Lighthouse, which was kept by Joe's uncle
and in which they meant to spend their brief honeymoon. Una Meredith and
Rilla and Susan washed the dishes, tidied up, left a cold supper and
Miranda's pitiful little note on the table for Mr. Pryor, and walked
home, while the mystic veil of dreamy, haunted winter twilight wrapped
itself over the Glen.
"I would really not have minded being a war-bride myself," remarked
Susan sentimentally.
But Rilla felt rather flat--perhaps as a reaction to all the excitement
and rush of the past thirty-six hours. She was disappointed somehow--
the whole affair had been so ludicrous, and Miranda and Joe so
lachrymose and commonplace.
"If Miranda hadn't given that wretched dog such an enormous dinner he
wouldn't have had that fit," she said crossly. "I warned her--but she
said she couldn't starve the poor dog--he would soon be all she had
left, etc. I could have shaken her."
"The best man was more excited than Joe was," said Susan. "He wished
Miranda many happy returns of the day. She did not look very happy, but
perhaps you could not expect that under the circumstances."
"Anyhow," thought Rilla, "I can write a perfectly killing account of it
all to the boys. How Jem will howl over Sir Wilfrid's part in it!"
But if Rilla was rather disappointed in the war wedding she found
nothing lacking on Friday morning when Miranda said good-bye to her
bridegroom at the Glen station.
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