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XXX. A Wedding at the Stone House
ButflowersofanykindwereratherscarceinAvonleaandtheneighboringdistrictsthatsummer,thankstoUncleAbe’sstorm;andAnneandDianathoughtthatacertainoldcream-coloredstonejug,usuallykeptsacredtodoughnuts,brimmedoverwithyellowdahlias,wouldbejustthethingtosetinadimangleofthestonehousestairs,againstthedarkbackgroundofredhallpaper.
“Is’poseyou’llbestartingoffforcollegeinafortnight’stime?”continuedMr.Harrison.“Well,we’regoingtomissyouanawfullot,Emilyandme.Tobesure,Mrs.Lynde’llbeoverthereinyourplace.Thereain’tnobodybutasubstitutecanbefoundforthem.”
TheironyofMr.Harrison’stoneisquiteuntransferabletopaper.Inspiteofhiswife’sintimacywithMrs.Lynde,thebestthatcouldbesaidoftherelationshipbetweenherandMr.Harrisonevenunderthenewregime,wasthattheypreservedanarmedneutrality.
“Yes,I’mgoing,”saidAnne.“I’mverygladwithmyhead...andverysorrywithmyheart.”
“Is’poseyou’llbescoopingupallthehonorsthatarelyingroundlooseatRedmond.”
“Imaytryforoneortwoofthem,”confessedAnne,“butIdon’tcaresomuchforthingslikethatasIdidtwoyearsago.WhatIwanttogetoutofmycollegecourseissomeknowledgeofthebestwayoflivinglifeanddoingthemostandbestwithit.Iwanttolearntounderstandandhelpotherpeopleandmyself.”
Mr.Harrisonnodded.
“That’stheideaexactly.That’swhatcollegeoughttobefor,insteadofforturningoutalotofB.A.
