“That’s just it,” said poor Kate. “I wouldn’t be frightened a bit if it wasn’t for that, for I’m so brave. What do you do with your hands?”
“You just keep hold of them. Mercy! don’t let them hang like that,—they’re yours; up till now he’s got nothing to do with them. Now for the tears—where’s your handkerchief? That one’s yards too big, and there isn’t an edge of lace to peek through, but it’ll do this time. It’ll all be right on the night. Now the minister’s speaking, and you’re looking down at the carpet and you’re timid and fluttered and nervous and thinking what an epoch this is in your sinful life, and how you won’t be Kate MacNeill any more but Mrs Charles Maclean, and the Lord knows if you will be happy with him—”
The bride blubbered and threw her apron over her head as usual: Bud was in despair.
“Well, you are a silly!” she exclaimed. “All you want is a gentle tear or two trickling down the side of your nose, enough to make your eyes blink but not enough to soak your veil or leave streaks. And there you gush like a waterspout, and damp your face so much the bridegroom’ll catch his death of cold when he kisses you! Stop it, Kate MacNeill,—it isn’t anybody’s funeral: why, weddings aren’t so very fatal; lots of folk get over them—leastways in America.”
“I can’t help it!” protested the weeping maid. “I never could be melancholy in moderation, and the way you speak you make me think it’s running a dreadful risk to marry anybody.”
“Well,” said Bud, “you needn’t think of things so harrowing, I suppose. Just squeeze your eyes together and bite your lip, and perhaps it’ll start a tear: if it don’t, it’ll look like as if you were bravely struggling with emotion. And then there’s the proud glad smile as you back out on Charles’s arm—give her your arm, Minnie,—the trial’s over, you know, and you’ve got on a lovely new plain ring, and all the other girls are envious, and Charles Maclean and you are one till death do you part. Oh, Kate, Kate! don’t grin; that’s not a smile, it’s a—it’s a railroad track. Look—” Bud assumed a smile that spoke of gladness and humility, confidence and a maiden’s fears,—a smile that appealed and charmed.
“I couldn’t smile like that to save my life,” said Kate in a despair. “I wish you had learned me that instead of the height of Popacatthekettle. Do you think he’ll be angry if I don’t do them things properly?”