"
Mr. Albert shuffled his topi and looked at us with kind, blinking
eyes, but attempted no remark. The last we saw of him he was tugging
the hat-box in the wake of his managing wife. G. looked at me
solemnly. "We had little to complain of," she said; "we weren't
married to her."
The husband of the Candle was the greatest surprise. I had
imagined--why, I don't know--that that lady's husband would be tall
and red-faced, with a large moustache and loud voice and manner,
someone who would match well with the Candle. Instead, we beheld a
dark, thin-faced man with a stoop, a man who looked like a scholar and
spoke with a delightful, quiet voice. He addressed the Candle as Jane.
_Jane!_ If it had been Fluffy, or Trixie, or Chippy, or even Dolly,
but, with that hair, that complexion, that voice, that troop of
attendant swains, to be called Jane! The thing was out of all reason.
I wonder all the widespread family of Janes, with their meek eyes
and smoothly braided hair, don't rise up and call her anything but
blessed. Oh, I know there was no thought of pleasing me when she was
christened, but still--Jane!
It was rather sweet to watch the little family groups, the mother
assuring a bored, indifferent infant that this was its own daddy, and
the proud father beaming on both.
The self-conscious bridegrooms sidling up to their blushing brides
afforded us much amusement. Some had not seen each other for five
years. I wonder if one or two didn't rue their bargains! It seems to
me a terrible risk!
I could have gone on watching the people for a long time, but Boggley
was anxious to be off; so after tearful farewells and many promises to
write had been exchanged, we departed.
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