“Oh, oh, I do be hoping the funeral will go off more harmonious than his brother John’s did,” said Judy. “John did be wanting to make all the arrangements for the funeral himself before he died…wanting things done rale stylish and having no confidence in his wife, her being av the second skimmings brand. They did be fighting all their lives but the biggest row they iver had was over his funeral. She didn’t be spaking to him agin while he was alive and she wudn’t sit among the mourners at all, at all, nor have innything to do wid the doings. It did be kind av spiling the occasion.”

“All fam’lies have their little differences,” said Mrs. Binnie stiffly. “Poor Sam’s widow is feeling blue enough. I’ve been there all the afternoon condoning with her.”

“Ye’ll be maning ‘condole,’” said Judy innocently. It was not often she bothered correcting Madam Binnie but there were times and seasons.

“I meant what I said,” returned Mrs. Binnie, “and I’ll thank you, Miss Plum, not to be putting words in my mouth.”

Pat and Rae found it hard to win sleep that last night together. Half a dozen times one of them would say, “Well, let’s turn over and go to sleep.” They would turn over but they wouldn’t go to sleep. Soon they would be talking again.

“I hope it will be fine tomorrow,” said Rae. “I want to leave Silver Bush with my last sight of it bathed in sunshine.”

“Tomorrow?” said Pat. “Today! The clock in the Little Parlor has just struck twelve. It’s your wedding day, Cuddles.”

“Time I was taking the bridal jitters,” laughed Rae. “I don’t believe I’ll have them at all. It all seems so—so natural to be marrying Brook, you know.”

They must have slept a little for presently Pat was surprised to find herself sitting up in bed looking through the window at a world that lay in a clear, pale, thin dawnlight. It was Rae’s wedding day and hereafter when she wakened she must waken alone.

A beautiful sunshiny day as Rae had desired, with mad, happy crickets singing everywhere and sinuous winds making golden shivers in the wheat-fields.

“Really,” said Rae, “the weather at Silver Bush isn’t like the weather anywhere else, even over at Swallowfield. I’ve teased you so often, Pat, for thinking things here were different from anywhere else…but in my heart I’ve always known it, too.”

“Isn’t it a wonderful day!” gushed May when they went down.

May rather spoiled the weather for Pat. But then with May everything was always either “wonderful” or “priceless.” Those were her pet adjectives. Pat felt that she didn’t want May to have anything to do with Rae’s wedding day, even to the extent of approving it.