"
The third of September had come at last. There was no question, this
time, of a wedding in St. Bartholomew's Church, with twelve bridesmaids
and a breakfast at Sherry's; no wonderful jewels, no press notices,
almost no trousseau. Austin's family, Uncle Mat, and a few close friends
came to Sylvia's own little house, and when the small circle was
complete, she took her uncle's arm and stood by Austin's side, while the
"new minister" married them. Thomas was best man; Molly, for the second
time that summer, maid-of-honor. Sadie and James were missing, but as "a
wedding present" came a telegram, announcing the safe arrival of a
nine-pound baby-girl. Edith was not there, either, and the date of
sailing for Holland had been postponed. She had gained less rapidly than
they had hoped, and still lay, very pale and quiet, on the sofa between
the big windows in her room. But she was not left alone when the rest of
the family departed for Sylvia's house; for Peter sat beside her in the
twilight, his big rough fingers clasping her thin white ones.
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