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Updated: May 18, 2025
She and Aunt Bettie had just come up the street from Aunt Bettie's house and the Pollard cook was following them with a large basket, in which were packed the things Aunt Bettie was contributing to the entertainment of the distinguished citizen. Mr. Johnson is Alfred's nearest kinsman in Hillsboro, and, of course, he is to be their guest while he is in town.
"No," said Bob, "but it might get to be a habit with him, and you know, according to Aunt Bettie's figures, the sand is going to help a lot in getting our loan paid off quickly at the bank." "Well, the next time I go to town, I'll see who I can find," he replied. "You know, Uncle Joe, if we had a telephone we could call up this morning and probably have a man out here by noon.
I think the finest thing on a farm, outside of making a profit," he added smiling, "are flowers." "Well, the flowers are Aunt Bettie's idea," said Bob. "She says they've many nice gardens in New England, and that she wants to have one out here, and, of course, you know that'd be the southwest exposure, and just the place for a flower garden."
Faye said: "You could not stand the exposure, but you might wear my little fur coat" Suggesting the coat was a give-in that I at once took advantage of, and in precisely twenty minutes Charlie, our Chinese cook, had been told what to do, a few articles of clothing wrapped and strapped, and I on Bettie's back ready for the wilds.
"Don't y' do it," he called warningly, but she did, and boxed his ears soundly while he was getting Marc in hand again. Bettie's rage was fleeting as the blown breath from Marc's nostrils, and when Milton turned to her again all was as if his deportment had been grave and cavalier.
Ed Blackler, with gloomy desperation, took Maud Buttles, the most depressingly plain girl in the room, an action that did not escape Bettie's eyes, and which softened her heart toward him; but she did not let him see it. Supper was served on the desks, each couple seated in the drab-colored wooden seats as if they were at school.
The next brought forth Aunt Bettie's biscuit man, which looked so funny that every one burst into laughter. Then books and presents of many varieties followed. Every few minutes a card would be drawn out bearing a message from some dear relative or friend in a distant city or State.
It won't be her fault if Mary Cary don't marry John. She's done her best to run him down." "Miss Gibbie may be a crank all right, but when she says a thing is so, it is so." Miss Lizzie Bettie's gloves came down with emphasis on the palm of her right hand. "And if she says John is going abroad, he is certainly going.
Deford was saying, and, as Miss Lizzie Bettie came nearer, jumped as if caught in an unrighteous act. "Good gracious, Lizzie Bettie, you frightened me nearly to death!" Mrs. Deford got up and pushed her chair forward. "You came up like a black ghost. Do pray take that heavy veil off. It makes me hot just to look at you!" "Then don't look." Miss Lizzie Bettie's voice was huffy.
The wedding supper was being laid on improvised tables in Bettie's side yard, with Judy Pike in command, seconded by Mrs. Peavey with her skirts tucked up out of possible harm and her mind on the outlook for any possible disaster, from the wilting of the jelly mold to a sad streak in the bride's cake, baked by the bride herself with perfectly happy confidence.
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