XLI
Love Takes Up the Glass of Time
“I’ve come up to ask you to go for one of our old-time rambles through
September woods and ‘over hills where spices grow,’ this afternoon,” said
Gilbert, coming suddenly around the porch corner. “Suppose we visit Hester
Gray’s garden.”
Anne, sitting on the stone step with her lap full of a pale, filmy, green stuff,
looked up rather blankly.
“Oh, I wish I could,” she said slowly, “but I really can’t, Gilbert. I’m going to
Alice Penhallow’s wedding this evening, you know. I’ve got to do something to
this dress, and by the time it’s finished I’ll have to get ready. I’m so sorry. I’d
love to go.”
“Well, can you go tomorrow afternoon, then?” asked Gilbert, apparently not
much disappointed.
“Yes, I think so.”
“In that case I shall hie me home at once to do something I should otherwise
have to do tomorrow. So Alice Penhallow is to be married tonight. Three
weddings for you in one summer, Anne—Phil’s, Alice’s, and Jane’s. I’ll never
forgive Jane for not inviting me to her wedding.”
“You really can’t blame her when you think of the tremendous Andrews
connection who had to be invited. The house could hardly hold them all. I was
only bidden by grace of being Jane’s old chum—at least on Jane’s part. I think
Mrs. Harmon’s motive for inviting me was to let me see Jane’s surpassing
gorgeousness.”
“Is it true that she wore so many diamonds that you couldn’t tell where the
diamonds left off and Jane began?”
Anne laughed.
“She certainly wore a good many. What with all the diamonds and white satin
and tulle and lace and roses and orange blossoms, prim little Jane was almost
lost to sight. But she was VERY happy, and so was Mr. Inglis—and so was Mrs.
Harmon.”