It was hard not to smile at this bit of sentiment, considering that the brides' great-grandmother had missed that happy day by some seventy years; but it was well to have something to smile at just when there was a little danger of every one growing sentimental. When Jessamy opened the leather case, there lay on the faded red velvet lining of hers a cross set with diamonds, and Barbara's blue-lined case revealed a string of beautiful old pearls.
When the toasts had been drunk, and the cake cut, and the little white boxes of cake, already prepared, distributed to the guests, Jessamy and Barbara arose and slipped away to lay off their bridal white and don the traveling-gowns in which they were to go out into the world, no longer Jessamy and Bab Wyndham, but Mrs. Robert Lane and Mrs. Thomas Leighton. Truce and Nixie, with large white satin bows on their collars, superintended the transformation, and both girls stooped to hug the little dog and cat who were so thoroughly associated with their happiness.
"Good-by, you dear, loveliest young ladies in all dis yere world," sobbed Violet. "Miss Phyllis and I's goin' take care you ma while you's gone, so don' you worry 'bout nothin', an' you gowns sets lovely."
"Good-by, dearies; it is like seeing my own children married," whispered Mrs. Van Alyn, holding Jessamy and Bab close in one long embrace.
Phyllis kissed them each, and each clung to her as if the parting were forever.
"Come, come," called Tom, who had no desire to let the going away grow tearful. "There's no time for long hugs, children, and we'll be back before you get the flat in order."
Mrs. Wyndham held out her arms, and both her girls rested in them for a moment without a word.
"Good-by, darlings; the best daughters a mother ever had," Mrs. Wyndham whispered; and Jessamy and Barbara ran down the stairs without daring to stop or look behind.
A shower of rice fell on the two carriages. Tom and Robert flew through the storm, the drivers cracked their whips, two flushed, sweet, smiling, tearful faces looked out of the windows for a moment, and Jessamy and Barbara had gone.
For a moment Phyllis and her aunt clung to each other, feeling that they alone were left out of a wreck of the world. Then a small boy rushed up the stairs, sent by Tom.