Plans

"I'd leave that to Uncle James, Aunty."

"I reckon you're right, Ruth--you've got the Hathaway sense."

The old wedding gown was brought down from the attic and taken out of
its winding sheet. It had been carefully folded, but every crease showed
plainly and parts of it had changed in colour. Aunt Jane put on her best
"foretop," which was entirely dark, with no softening grey hair, and was
reserved for occasions of high state. A long brown curl, which was hers
by right of purchase, was pinned to the hard, uncompromising twist at
the back of her neck.

Ruth helped her into the gown and, as it slipped over her head, she
inquired, from the depths of it: "Is the front door locked?"

"Yes, Aunty, and the back door too."

"Did you bring up the keys as I told you to?"

"Yes, Aunty, here they are. Why?"

There was a pause, then Mrs. Ball said solemnly: "I've read a great deal
about bridegrooms havin' wanderin' fits immediately before weddin's.
Does my dress hike up in the back, Ruth?"

It was a little shorter in the back than in the front and cleared the
floor on all sides, since she had grown a little after it was made,
but Ruth assured her that everything was all right. When they went
downstairs together, Mr. Ball was sitting in the parlour, plainly
nervous.

"Now Ruth," said Aunt Jane, "you can go after the minister. My first
choice is Methodis', after that Baptis' and then Presbyterian. I will
entertain James durin' your absence."