"But what time do the exercises begin?" demanded Hezekiah in a troubled
voice. "Ye see, there's Bunker Hill an'--sugar! Abby, ain't that
pretty?" he broke off delightedly. Before him stood a slender glass into
which the waiter was pouring something red and sparkling.
The old lady opposite grew white, then pink. "Of course that ain't wine,
Mr. Livingstone?" she asked anxiously.
"Give yourself no uneasiness, my dear Mrs. Warden," interposed Harding.
"It's lemonade--pink lemonade."
"Oh," she returned with a relieved sigh. "I ask yer pardon, I'm sure.
You wouldn't have it, 'course, no more'n I would. But, ye see, bein'
pledged so, I didn't want ter make a mistake."
There was an awkward silence, then Harding raised his glass.
"Here's to your health, Mrs. Warden!" he cried gayly. "May your trip----"
"Wait!" she interrupted excitedly, her old eyes alight and her cheeks
flushed. "Let me tell ye first what this trip is ter us, then ye'll have
a right ter wish us good luck."
Harding lowered his glass and turned upon her a gravely attentive face.
"'Most fifty years ago we was married, Hezekiah an' me," she began
softly. "We'd saved, both of us, an' we'd planned a honeymoon trip. We
was comin' ter Boston. They didn't have any 'lectric-cars then nor any
steam-cars only half-way.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191