by Nell Speed
CHAPTER XXII.
THE WEDDING BREAKFAST.
When the Marquise d'Ochte said she would do something, she always did itand did it as well as it could be done. When she undertook to find outwhere and how Polly Perkins was for the benefit of his spunky wife, shedid it and did it immediately. And not only did she find him, but shegot a little respite from duty for him and bore him back to Paris whereshe had already spirited Jo to be present at the wedding breakfast. Shehad asked a holiday for Jo, too, although the grizzled commander wasloathe to let his best aviator off even for a day.
Jo was taken to the converted d'Ochte mansion and there dressed like anice, feminine little woman, her hair curled by madame's maid. A tightvelvet toque and a dotted veil completed the transformation and thecommander himself would not have recognized his one time prize aviator.All of this masquerade was for the sole purpose of fooling Philippe,who, also, was to be one of the guests at the Tricots'.
Polly was so happy to see his Jo again that it was pathetic to behold,and her pride in him and his bravery was beautiful. Polly was vastlyimproved. Kent, who had always liked the little man and had insistedthat there was much more to him than the other members of the colonycould see, was delighted to have his opinion of his friend verified.
The ceremony was a very simple one, performed, not by the magistrate asMere Tricot had suggested, but at the Protestant Episcopal Church. PollyPerkins gave away the bride, and Jo looked as though she would burstwith pride at this honour done her husband. Jim Castleman was best man,and Cousin Sally fell in love with him on the spot.
"He is like the young men of my youth," she declared, "the young men ofKentucky, I am not saying how many years ago."
The little living room at the Tricots' soon after the ceremony was fullto overflowing, but every one squeezed in somehow. The old couple werevery happy in dispensing hospitality. Their Jean came home for a fewhours and their hearts were thankful for this glimpse of their son.Marie beamed with joy and the rosy baby delighted them all by saying,"Pa-pa!" the first word it had ever uttered.
Philippe, looking so handsome that Judy, too, wondered that all theAmerican girls passed him by, fraternized with Jean, the peasant's son,with that simplicity which characterizes the military of France.
The party was very gay, so gay that it seemed impossible that theGermans were really not more than thirty miles from them. Of course theytalked politics, men and women. Old Mere Tricot had her opinions andexpressed them, and they listened with respect when she pooh-poohed andbah-bahed the notion that the Nations had gone to war from altruisticmotives.
"Belgium might as well die fighting as die not fighting. The Germanshad her any way she jumped. France had to fight, too, fight or beenslaved. As for Great Britain--she couldn't well stay out of it! Whenthe Germans got Antwerp, why, where was England? Let us fight, Isay--fight to a finish; but let's be honest about it and each countrysay she is fighting for herself."
"Do you think United States should come over and help?" asked Kent, muchinterested in the old woman's wisdom.
"Not unless she has wrongs of her own to right!" spoke the grenadier.
"But think how France helped us out in '76!" exclaimed Judy.
"Yes, and helped herself, no doubt. I am not very educated in history,but I'll be bound she had a crow of her own to pick with England."
"To be sure," laughed Philippe, "France did want to destroy the navalsupremacy of Great Britain. Her alliance with Spain meant more to Francethan her alliance with America. She was not wholly disinterested whenshe helped the struggling states."
"Oh, Heavens, Philippe, please don't take from me the romantic passion Ihave always had for Lafayette!" begged his mother. "I used to thrillwith joy when tales were told of my great grandmother's dancing withhim."
"Keep your passion for Lafayette. He was at least brave anddisinterested, but don't waste much feeling on the government thatbacked him. Vergennes, the minister of France at that time, prepared amap in which the United States figured as the same old colonial stripbetween the Alleghenies and the sea. They had no idea of helping UnitedStates to become a great nation."
"Yes, I remember reading a letter from Jay in which he said: 'This courtis interested in separating us from Great Britain, but it is not theirinterest that we should become a great and formidable people.' But Ifeel deeply grateful to France for all she did," said Kent.
"Me, too!" cried Jim Castleman. "And I mean to do all I can to pay itback."
"Ah! My American Lafayette!" cried the Marquise. "A toast, a toast, tomy American Lafayette!" And they stood up and drank a toast to theblushing young giant.
"I didn't dream any one could have such a good time at her own wedding,"said Judy when the last vestige of cake had disappeared. It was awonderful cake with a tiny white sugar bride and a chocolate groomperched on top. There had been much holding of hands under the table.Every other person seemed to be eating with his or her left hand, andCousin Sally complained that she had no hand to eat with at all, asPhilippe held one of her hands and the American Lafayette held theother.
The Marquis could not come, much to the regret of all the company, forhis regiment expected to be called to the front any day and no leavescould be granted.
Judy put up a brave front when adieux were in order, but her heart wasvery sad. How many terrible things might happen to these kind friendsshe was leaving! The Tricots, good souls, might be bereft at anymoment. Dear Cousin Sally, with two in the war, might be doubly visitedby the hand of death. Polly and Jo Perkins were to part after this brieftime of happiness, holding hands under the Tricots' hospitable board,one to return to his office of caring for the wounded, the other to heroffice of keeping the German ambulance drivers busy. The young Kentuckygiant, Jim Castleman, was to join his regiment on the following day. Hisglee at having a chance to swat the Prussians was intense. He didn'tlook like a person who could ever die, but one bit of shrapnel might inthe twinkling of an eye destroy that virile youth.
"Come to see me when you can, my American Lafayette," begged theMarquise, "and if you get so much as a tiny little wound, let me nurseyou if you can get to me."
Jim had delighted the little party by translating into his execrableFrench football terms to describe his idea of how the war should beconducted. His left tackle was frankly: "_gauche palan_," and his centrerush was: "_cintre jonc_."
He and Kent were not very demonstrative in their parting, but both ofthem felt it deeply.
"Wuv e lul lul! Sus o lul o nun gug!" called Jim, as the cab bearing thebride and groom started.
"Gug o o dud lul u sank kuk!" was Kent's feeling rejoinder.