“Go on up stairs, Marjorie,” Miss Allison directed, after welcoming the Deans. “Constance looks so lovely. She is waiting anxiously for you.”
Marjorie needed no second instructions. She ran up the stairs in her usual buoyant fashion and knocked at a familiar door.
“Come in.” Constance rose from before her dressing table as Marjorie entered. The two met in the middle of the room and embraced. For a long moment they stood thus. In the eyes of each were tears which they both strove to check.
“I’m so happy, Marjorie, and sad, and my feelings are a general jumble,” half sobbed Constance.
Marjorie nodded through tears. “I know. I feel that way, too, just because it’s you. I don’t want to cry and make my eyelids pink and neither do you,” she added with a tremulous laugh.
This brought a smile to Constance’s lovely but distinctly solemn features. The first rush of emotion past, the chums felt better.
“How dear you are in your wedding gown!” Marjorie exclaimed. She had now stepped far enough away from Constance to obtain a good view of her. The dress was of heavy white satin, beautiful in its simplicity of design. On a white-covered stand nearby lay the long fine lace veil with its perfumed garniture of lilies of the valley and orange blossoms. Beside it was the bride’s bouquet, a shower of the same sweet lilies and orange blossoms.
“This is Laurie’s gift to me.” Constance touched tenderly a string of luscious pearls adorning her white throat. “I want you to help me adjust my veil. Aunt Susan’s maid wished to, but I wouldn’t let her. I preferred you to do it, Marjorie.”
“I’d love to. You know that,” Marjorie left off admiring the pearls to make this warm assurance. “Go and sit on your dressing-table chair. Then you can see me fix your veil and be sure that you are satisfied with it.”
Constance obediently complied. Marjorie lightly lifted the fairy-like bridal insignia and placed it upon her friend’s head.
“I am your fairy god-mother,” she said in a dramatic voice. “On your wedding night I come to bring you every known happiness. I place the chaplet of love upon your head and grant you a long, untroubled life.”
Both girls laughed at this bit of fancy, the oval mirror reflecting a charming picture as Marjorie carefully adjusted the veil over Connie’s golden curls.