ugh it was to be
a very quiet affair, not the fashionable ceremony, with bridesmaids and
champagne, for which Jemima's heart privately yearned.

"I don't know any girls well enough to ask them to be bridesmaids," she
explained wistfully to her fiance, who made a mental note to supply her
with young women friends hereafter, if he had to hire them.

Nevertheless, it was something of a ceremony. The Madam did not have a
daughter married every day. For days beforehand the negroes were busy
indoors and out, cleaning, painting and whitewashing, exhibiting a
tendency to burst into syncopated strains of Lohengrin whenever Jemima
or the Professor came into view. The kitchen chimney belched forth smoke
like a factory; for though no invitations were sent out, it was
inevitable that the countryside, white and black, would arrive to pay
its respects to the newly wedded, and Big Liza, with an able corps of
assistants, was preparing to welcome them in truly feudal fashion.

Gifts began to arrive, silver and glass and china from friends of the
Professor and business connections of Mrs. Kildare. A magnificent
service of plate came from Jemima's great-aunt, for whom she was named.
("We must make friends with Aunt Jemima, James," was the bride's
thoughtful comment on the arrival of this present.) Philip could not
afford to buy a handsome enough gift, and so parted with the bronze
candelabra which Farwell had so covetously admired; a sacrifice which
did much to break down the hauteur of the bride's recent manner with
him. She knew how well he loved his few Lares and Penates.

There were other presentations of less conventional nature. These
Professor Thorpe, whom the panting Ark conveyed nightly from the
university to Storm and back again, eyed with a mixture of interest and
dismay.

"This suckling pig, now," he murmured. "How are we to accommodate him in
a city apartment, Jemima? And that highly decorative rooster--I fear we
shall have some difficulty in persuading my janitor to accept him as an
inmate. Do you suppose _all_ your mother's tenants will feel called upon
to supply us with livestock?"

"Oh, no, Goddy! Look at this crazy quilt," chuckled Jacqueline, busily
unwrapping parcels, "It is made of the Sunday dresses of all Mrs. Sykes'
friends and relations. She thought it might remind Jemmy of home. It
will. Oh, it will! You've only to look at it and you'll see the entire
congregation nodding over one of Phil's sermons!" She mad