The train was going rapidly now. It would not be long before the conductor
would reach them. The man leaned over, and clasped the little gloved hand
that lay in the girl's lap; and Elizabeth felt the great joy that had
tantalized her for these three years in dreams and visions settle down
about her in beautiful reality. She was his now forever. She need never
run away again.
The conductor was not long in coming to them, and the matter-of-fact world
had to be faced once more. The young man produced his card, and said a few
words to the conductor, mentioning the name of his uncle, who, by the way,
happened to be a director of the road; and then he explained the
situation. It was very necessary that the young lady be recalled at once
to her home because of a change in the circumstances. He had caught the
train at West Philadelphia by automobile, coming as he was in his morning
clothes, without baggage and with little money. Would the conductor be so
kind as to put them off that they might return to the city by the shortest
possible route?
The conductor glared and scolded, and said people "didn't know their own
minds," and "wanted to move the earth." Then he eyed Elizabeth, and she
smiled. He let a grim glimmer of what might have been a sour smile years
ago peep out for an instant, and--he let them off.
They wandered delightedly about from one trolley to another until they
found an automobile garage, and soon were speeding back to Philadelphia.
They waited for no ceremony, these two who had met and loved by the way in
the wilderness. They went straight to Mrs. Benedict for her blessing, and
then to the minister to arrange for his services; and within the week a
quiet wedding-party entered the arched doors of the placid brown church
with the lofty spire, and Elizabeth Bailey and George Benedict were united
in the sacred bonds of matrimony.
There were present Mrs. Benedict and one or two intimate friends of the
family, besides Grandmother Brady, Aunt Nan, and Lizzie.
Lizzie brought a dozen bread-and-butter-plates from the ten-cent store.
They were adorned with cupids and roses and much gilt. But Lizzie was
disappointed. No display, no pomp and ceremony. Just a simple white dress
and white veil. Lizzie did not understand that the veil had been in the
Bailey family for generations, and that the dress was an heirloom also. It
was worn because Grandmother Bailey had given it to her, and told her she
wanted her to wear it on her wedding-day. Sweet and beautiful she looked
as she turned to walk down the aisle on her husband's arm, and she smiled
at Grandmother Brady in a way that filled the grandmother's heart with
pride and triumph. Elizabeth was not ashamed of the Bradys even among her
fine friends. But Lizzie grumbled all the way home at the plainness of the
ceremony, and the lack of bridesmaids and fuss and feathers.