If Daddy’s office nurse hadn’t called and said that he had an emergency case there is no telling when the Birthday dinner party would have ended. Even as the telephone rang and Cissy drawled, “Doctah’s residence,” Daddy glanced guiltily at his wrist watch and stood up.  
“Tell Miss Gould I’m on my way, Cissy,” and that quick Daddy was gone.
 
Mimi was off too, but out the back door, not the front. She stopped at the on the way out taking an apple out of the fruit bowl.
 
“Surely, child, you can’t eat anything else.”
 
“No ma’am, it’s for King—I’m going out to see him.”
 
“King isn’t here, Mimi—he’s at the veterinarian’s.”
 
“What for? Is he sick?”
 
“Nothing at all. Dr. Kirby wants a friend to see him. Daddy will explain.”
 
“Dr. Kirby isn’t trying to sell King, is he, Mother?”
 
In the instant Mother hesitated, Mimi knew.
 
“That’s up to you and Daddy.”
 
“Oh,” said Mimi going on out the door toward the stable. She had no word for Von who at her heels, only a pat on the head. Together they stood before the empty stall; Mimi leaning against the rail, Von pressing against her knees. No proud head nuzzling against her shoulder, no welcoming neigh, no pawing. Daddy wouldn’t sell King without asking her; Mimi knew that, but King was a valuable horse and Daddy might need the money to go to Germany. He couldn’t take the horse with him. She couldn’t take him to Sheridan—or could she? Boarding horses out a whole winter was dreadfully expensive. They’d have to do something with King. Wrapped in her calculations and at the apple intended for her pet, she wandered back toward the house and upstairs to her room.
 
There was very little breeze. The of honeysuckle was heavy. She was full and tired and had no whatever to open her duffle bag and begin putting things in place.
 
“No wonder, I’m sleepy. It’s quiet hour by camp time.” So saying she skinned her dress off over her head, kicked off her sandals, stretched out on her own bed and in two and no blinks was sound asleep.
 
Two hours later when Mother opened the door, Mimi opened her eyes but she did not get up. She rolled over on her stomach, doubled her knees up and her head in her hands.
 
“Could you stand another big surprise today?” Mother asked, handing Mimi the afternoon paper. The paper was turned inside out putting the Society Page on the outside.
 
“There,” Mother added, putting her finger on an item.
 
Mimi was too sleepy to hurry. She had to shift her position to hold the paper and as she moved she said to her mother:
 
“I suppose it says the charming and ‘onliest’ daughter of Dr. and Mrs. James Sherwood Hammond has returned from an extended vacation at Camp Cave”—a big yawn—“and that her parents were at the train?”
 
“Hurry, Mimi. This is important.”
 
Mother, who usually had all the calmness and a doctor’s wife soon acquires, was weaving her hands like Zasu Pitts before Mimi focused her blue eyes on the column.
 
“Mrs. Josephine Herold announces the engagement and approaching marriage of her daughter, Alicia Jane, to Mr. Dick Donnell. The wedding will be an event of early autumn.”
 
“Umph! That’s no surprise to me. I’ve known it all day long—for sure,” said Mimi superiorly. “Why, we even planned Miss Jane’s wedding for her on the train this morning coming home.”
 
“And what are her plans?”
 
“Well, I don’t know exactly,” Mimi had to admit, “but we’re going to be in the wedding—all five of us who were in Miss Jane’s hut at camp, and Miss Millie, too. We told her we were.”
 
“And where will the wedding be?”
 
“Oh, Mother,” laughed Mimi, “you sound just like that silly old nursery rhyme about ‘Mr. Frog went a courtin’ and he did ride, umphum’ saying ‘where shall the wedding supper be?’ and if I answer like the rhyme, ‘way down yonder in a hollow tree,’ that could be true for all I know. I don’t care where it is just so I’m in it.”
 
“A church wedding would be frightfully expensive for Mrs. Herold, I fear; and since Mr. Herold passed away and Mrs. Herold had the house made into two apartments, their present living quarters are rather crowded. I wonder——”
 
Mimi did not know what Mother wondered until they were dressed for the afternoon and had driven over to Miss Jane’s. Mimi had wanted to go by the tennis court for two reasons; to show off her improved game and to see Honky and return his tennis racquet he had let her take to camp. The way things turned out she was glad she went with Mother Dear because now she was in on the ground floor of all the lovely plans.
 
Mrs. Herold, Miss Jane, Mimi (who sat near the open door to wave hello in case any of her friends passed), and Mrs. Hammond were no sooner seated than Mrs. Hammond, with that charming directness of hers, came to the point.
 
“Jane, my dear, Dr. Hammond and I are so grateful to you for the splendid care you took of Mimi at camp that I want you to let me do something for you. You see, your mother and Dr. Hammond’s Aunt Gay were in Sheridan together and that almost makes us .” Mother was laughing and being her most . Mimi had turned from the open door and was watching her Mother and listening intently. “What I am trying to say, my dear, is, won’t you and Dick marry at our house? It is so suited to a simple home wedding, the stairs, the living room, reception hall and dining room arranged as they are.”
 
“Why, Mrs. Hammond, I don’t know what to say. I never heard of anything so wonderful! I love your house! I’ve been in and out there all my life and feel it’s partly my home, too. What do you think, Mother?” she asked turning to Mrs. Herold.
 
“Jane,” little Mrs. Herold had tears of happiness in her eyes, “it’s your wedding and have it as you please. It could be a beautiful wedding there—the white columns and the floor plan. It always has reminded me of the big house down on the where your father and I were .” Her voice had trailed away to a soft whisper.
 
Jane rose from her chair and sat on the needle point stool at her Mother’s feet and leaned her head against her Mother’s knees.
 
“I’ll have to speak to Dick, Mrs. Hammond.”
 
“Only one thing I must add, Jane. We are closing our house the middle of September. The doctor has definitely to go to Leipzig. I have to get Mimi ready for Sheridan. If you could move the date up two or three weeks, say to the first week of September, we could manage beautifully.”
 
Everyone listening knew Mother Dear could do just that, manage beautifully.
 
That is how it happened that when , September the seventh, came, all the streets for three blocks around the Hammond house were blocked with cars. The driveway was kept open and cars were rolling up to the porte-cochere to deposit wedding guests, circling the back flower bed and moving out again. Well dressed ladies in dainty summer frocks, gay young things, well gentlemen were strolling up the front walk and lingering in the cool shadows on the until the music invited them in.
 
Inside the house there was more and excitement than on the outside—florist helpers, caterers, two dressmaker’s helpers, who were serving as maids, were putting last touches here and there. No one was more important than Cissy. Even in the years to come when her own Mimi would be a regal bride trailing down the steps of this same old house where Mammy had already seen two generations of joy and sorrow, she would not be busier. There was, first of all, the from Louisville who was “acting Frenchy and puttin’ on airs” and “bein’ an abomination” to Mammy’s soul. Yellow Fanny, who had helped Mammy on special occasions before, was as nervous as a cat. The yard boy was dressed up in a fresh white coat opening car doors and the front screen door and at every possible chance slipping back to the kitchen window to tell those in the rear of the house what was going on out front. Fanny couldn’t stay far from the window, and Mammy herself, as eager as any one not to miss anything, would listen intently and then declare she couldn’t do anything with “so many .” But she had done a great deal. The furniture was pushed back in the dining room to make room for the guests. There was a pile of white napkins on the buffet, but every available inch in the kitchen was stacked with plates and there were rows and rows of tall thin glasses waiting to be filled. Tiny rolled sandwiches, what looked to Mimi like a tubful of chicken salad, beaten biscuits—and most wonderful of all, the wedding cake, tiers and tiers of cake with a miniature bride and on top. The caterer knew it was a work of art but it was Mammy in her new black uniform and crisp white organdy and cap who, after the ceremony, would carry it in with candles , place it in the center of the table and hand Miss Jane the silver cake server.
 
There was a green bank of ferns before the living room fireplace forming an altar. Even now, the florist’s helper was the tall cathedral candles on either side. The white satin stool for the bride and groom to kneel on was placed just so. There was a of cut flowers everywhere. The delicately turned bannister was wound with southern smilax and a big white satin bow crowned the newel post. Downstairs all was in readiness.
 
Upstairs there was an orderly confusion. Mother Dear seemed everywhere—keeping order where might so easily . She was the behind the scene pulling the central making the wedding party act. There had been so many things.
 
Miss Jane had been ducky about having a rainbow wedding. Nothing else would satisfy her five little campers, who were now her junior (and only) bridesmaids. She had chosen palest yellow for her gown palest yellow highlighting the deep waves in her golden hair and striking little sparks of fire in her deep grey eyes. She had let her hair grow longer since camp and it curled softly to her face. Her gorgeous sheaf of sunburst roses added the perfect finishing touch to the picture of a beautiful bride.
 
Miss Millie had been more fun at than all the rest together. She always amused Mimi and since camp Mimi knew she would never be able to be around Miss Millie long without being happy and gay. Miss Millie was not pretty, but in her green dress she made a very dashing maid of honor. To Mother Dear’s great relief she had arrived with Miss Jane gowned and been up the back way—one less to dress upstairs.
 
The trouble lay with the five, and had from the beginning. Even before the color-of-dresses-difficulty arose, there was this matter of not being able to divide five into pairs, and bridesmaids must saunter down the stairs two and two. Mimi was positive any would ruin the whole wedding! Perhaps because she was in the habit now of taking charge of the five, or maybe it was to keep unpleasantness out of anything connected with her wedding; at any rate, Miss Jane settled the first dispute most tactfully.
 
“But Sue,” she had said and Sue, flattered, had , “Sue dear I wanted you to play at my wedding—I must have a violin and I had pictured you in a blue organdy dress with your violin under your chin, playing and facing me as I came into the living room. My knees may be a bit wobbly by the time I get my long dress down the stairs—if I get that far without tripping—and I’ll need to see you playing, ‘Here comes the bride, here comes the bride!’”
 
Who could resist Miss Jane? Not Sue——
 
Then Jean, who had been superior at camp because she-had-been-to-camp-before, was and agreeable because this was her first time to be in a wedding—the first time for them all—at least the first grown up time. Margie had been a flower girl once but she was such a baby then that didn’t count. She and Jean had thrilled over pink for their frocks and they were to come down first. That coming down first had been another matter. Dottie had to be convinced (she with the logical mind and the determined-to-do-or-die disposition) that she and Mimi should be second because they were taller—start with the short girls and work up to the tallest. If only Miss Jane were taller than Miss Millie it would be perfect, but she wasn’t. At this point Mother Dear had mentioned dresses and peace prevailed again.
 
Now the dark days of running to the dressmakers for fittings, and trying to stand still and not to yell when a pin stuck, were over. Even the satin pumps, which, to be alike, had had to be bought white and dyed, had turned out successfully. Only getting the dresses on and the pumps on remained.
 
At the moment Mimi’s arms were stretched high over her head, her hair was caught on something or other, and she was and Mother was trying to get the orchid dress over her head and down without messing up her hair.
 
“There, we must hurry,” said Mother giving the final jerk as Mimi’s head popped in view again.
 
“If I can balance on these heels and don’t fall—why, oh why, didn’t Mr. Zeigler finish them in time for me to practice wearing high heels—oh, Mother if——”
 
And then she saw herself in the full length mirror of the closet door.
 
“Oh,” was all she could at her radiant image.
 
“Sue, ready for you,” called Mrs. Herold gently—“Reverend McKenzie is here and we’re about ready. You girls look so fresh and sweet.” Mrs. Herold looked sweet herself.
 
“Thank you,” from all five. They had brought the idea home from camp—when one all spoke.
 
“Now, run along, Sue—careful——”
 
Sue met the pianist and in the upstairs hall and the three quietly moved downstairs.
 
A—A—A—, squeak, E—E—E—A—D—G—plink, plink.
 
The four girls as they heard Sue her violin. Dottie put her fingers in her ears and .
 
At the first strain of Cadman’s “At Dawning” every trace of grin disappeared. A strange quiet the whole house. Voices hushed to a whisper, then died altogether. Fans ceased fluttering—“When the dawn flames in the sky, I love you—” The whole assembly had caught its breath in a lover’s knot.
 
The bridal party assembled in the hall—all but Miss Jane. Her door was still closed. The minister, Dick and his best man had remained downstairs They were to enter from the dining room and Dick would meet Miss Jane at the foot of the stairs and give her his arm.
 
Mimi gripped Dot’s arm.
 
“Oh, my gosh, I forgot something,” she in a stage whisper. Leaving Dot to remark, “You would” to thin air, Mimi caught her full long skirt up around her and ran on tiptoes into her room.
 
Bang went the chest top against the window sill. Out came two boxes to be dumped in vain in the middle of the floor. Mimi grabbed up her camp count book and holding it by the backs shook the pages till they against each other.
 
“I must find it—I must!” she repeated. She was beginning to despair when a downy blue feather fell out. Clutching it firmly between her thumb and , Mimi headed for Miss Jane’s door.
 
“Miss Jane, Miss Jane,” she whispered tensely, turning the door knob as she spoke—“I have something for you—you have to have it, please.”
 
“Come in,” Miss Jane invited as Mimi slipped through the door—“What in the world?”
 
Mimi held out the feather.
 
“Here, Miss Jane. Stick this on you somewhere for luck. It’s a blue bird feather I brought from camp.”
 
“Luck?”
 
Miss Jane smiled as if Dick were the only luck she ever needed to be happy, but while Mimi explained she stuck the tiny feather under the ribbon of her corsage.
 
“Yes. Every bride must wear:
 
‘Something old, something new,
Something borrowed, something blue.’
And you see Miss Jane, that’s all of them. Oh, there goes the music——”
 
Before she finished talking, Jean and Margie had started. As soon as they turned the landing, Dottie and Mimi fell in to the measured step. Holding their tightly against them and counting, listening carefully for the accent of the music and—trying to go slowly—the bridesmaids to the living room. Their tiny high heels made prints on the soft satin laid over the carpet. Everything inside Mimi was singing with Sue’s violin and the piano. Again her magic trail of beauty stretched out before her. When the final cords sounded and Miss Jane paused for one moment at the head of the stairs Mimi almost ceased to breathe. It was all too perfectly thrilling. Her Miss Jane could have stepped out of fairyland.
 
The ceremony, the reception and going away were events of a dream to Mimi. She moved here and there and yet had no part in it. She kissed the groom. She with glee when she bit down on the ring in her piece of wedding cake. She hugged Miss Millie with the rest as Millie’s long arms caught Miss Jane’s which she tossed over the stairs when she ran up to put on her going away ensemble. She threw rice and rice and rice. Then all too soon it was over and the last car was disappearing down the driveway.
 
Mother and Daddy stood on the steps waving. Mimi was between them a step below. She could not see the long look they gave each other over her head which meant that some day, not so very many years away, their own daughter would be going down the same driveway, a bride.