"
The things that she did were stupendous.
She had a florist up in two hours--and the rose-colored drawing room
was rosier than ever, and as fragrant as a garden.
She telephoned the clergyman--"At ten o'clock tomorrow."
She telephoned the caterer--"A wedding breakfast--"
She telephoned the dressmaker--"Miss McKenzie's gown--"
She telephoned Margaret and Marion Gray--.
"Is there anyone else?" she asked the Doctor. "I suppose we really
ought to tell the General."
"Certainly not."
"But Bronson--? Derry will want him."
"If he can keep a secret--yes."
Jean and Derry, arriving after dark, were swept into a scene of
excitement.
Florists on the stairs!
A frenzied dressmaker waiting with Jean's wedding gown!
Maids with mops and men with vacuums!
Julia and the cook helping at loose ends and dinner late!
What did it all mean?
"It means," said the Doctor, "that you are going to be married, my
dear, at ten o'clock in the morning."
"But why, Daddy--" fear showed in her eyes--
"Ask Emily."
"Is he--going away,--Emily?"
"Yes, dear."
"But he mustn't. Derry, do you hear? He is going to France--and he
mustn't--"
Derry took her trembling hands in his firm clasp.
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