Mabel Quiller-Couch.

The Making of Mona online

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"There's a proper rivalry all through Seacombe, trying which of us can get
the best. There won't be any out-door roses, but we've all got bushes in
our windows."

Seacombe folk that spring tried to outdo each other in their cleaning,
too. As soon as the March winds died down, and the days grew light and
fine such a fury of whitewashing and painting, scrubbing and polishing set
in, as had never been known in Seacombe before. By the middle of April
there was not a whitewashing brush left, nor a yard of net for curtains.

"It dazzles one to walk up the street when the sun shines," Dr. Edwards
complained. "What's the meaning of it all. Is it any special year - - "

"It's your year, sir," laughed Lucy. "That's the meaning of it! It's all
for your wedding day. You see, sir, you have been so good to us all, we
want to do what we can to show you and Miss Grace what we feel towards you
both."

Dr. Edwards was touched. Seacombe folk did not talk much of their
feelings, and he had never dreamed how much they felt. "It is very, very
kind of you all," he said, "and the knowledge will make us more happy than
all our wedding presents put together."

"And we are all praying, sir, that the day may be as perfect a one as ever
anybody knew," chimed in Mrs. Row, who was standing close by.

And surely no people ever had their prayers more graciously granted.
The sun shone in a cloudless sky from morning till night. A soft little
breeze from the sea tempered the warmth, and set all the flags and
streamers waving. And as the bride walked down the churchyard path on her
husband's arm, it blew the rose petals over her, pink, and crimson, and
white.

Mona, her wishes realised, wore a blue sash and forget-me-nots in her hat;
Millie stood next her with pink roses in hers, and a pink sash. Patty was
a blue girl, and Philippa a pink one. And though the baskets they carried
held not so very many roses, they were flowing over with other flowers,
for the girls had walked miles to gather bluebells and primroses, violets
and delicate anemones, the air smelt sweetly of spring, and the joy of
spring was in their faces, and in their hearts as well.

And as the bride walked away down the path, Mona looked after her with
tender, wistful eyes, and an unspoken prayer in her heart, that she might
be given the grace, and the power to serve her new mistress well and
loyally, and to do her share towards making her new life in her new home
as happy as life could be.



THE END.








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Online LibraryMabel Quiller-CouchThe Making of Mona → online text (page 12 of 12)