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Updated: June 10, 2025
It was due to Persis' effective championship that Diantha's wedding bade fair to prove what the reporter of the Clematis Weekly News called "A social event of almost metropolitan importance." There were to be bridesmaids and ushers and a best man. Admission to the church was by card, and the ensuing reception at the home of the bride's parents was scheduled to set a new pace for Clematis society.
"But I will I don't I didn't mean it," sobbed Diantha incoherently. "I'd rather have Dolly twice over. I <i>like</i> ter crawl. Oh, Phineas, I hate that thing I've always hated it! I'll say yes next week to- morrow to-day if you'll only open your eyes and tell me you ain't a-dyin'!" Phineas was not dying, and he proved it promptly and effectually, even to the doubting Diantha's blushing content.
"Nobody here," said Persis, and she echoed Diantha's sigh. The doctor's appearance suggested that she might be needed to act as nurse in some household too poor to pay for professional care. For a dozen years the old doctor had called on her freely for such gratuitous service, and his successor had promptly fallen into a similar practise.
Weatherstone's known interest gave it social backing; and many ladies who heartily disapproved of Diantha's theories found themselves quite willing to profit by this very practical local solution of the "servant question." The "club girls" became very popular.
This last statement was strictly accurate though her limp as she advanced toward them was exaggerated. "I don't know what I'd have done," declared Persis, "if you hadn't happened along." Diantha's face reflected the pinkness of the gown which had betrayed her. Thad West looked frankly sulky and quite at a loss.
"And I'm sure she would wish that thought to be a comfort to you, dear," said the doctor gently. "I am sure she would." Phineas and the Motor Car Phineas used to wonder, sometimes, just when it was that he began to court Diantha Bowman, the rosy-cheeked, golden-haired idol of his boyhood. Diantha's cheeks were not rosy now, and her hair was more silver than gold, but she was not yet his wife.
Diantha's the sort of girl that ought to be married in church with bridesmaids and the wedding march and pews full Of folks looking on.
Now that Annabel Sinclair had no immediate use for Persis' services, Diantha's wardrobe could receive attention. The girl presented herself at the dressmaker's late one afternoon, her smooth forehead disfigured by an irritated frown, her mouth resolutely unsmiling. Under one arm she carried a roll of cheap white lawn.
"Now, children," Persis settled herself and slipping an arm deftly behind Thad's back, she took Diantha's slim hand in hers, "I never was one to be a kill-joy. You drive round as long as you feel like it and don't mind me, no more'n if I was a coach dog running on behind." "Thad!" exclaimed Diantha in peremptory fashion. "I'm going to tell her." "Just as you think best," replied young Mr.
New Union Home ran itself, and articles were written about it in magazines; so that here and there in other cities similar clubs were started, with varying success. The restaurant was increasingly popular; Diantha's cooks were highly skilled and handsomely paid, and from the cheap lunch to the expensive banquet they gave satisfaction.
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