"
The brisk chatter and laughter, which by now had prevaded the big
place, ceased as by a preconcerted signal, and a dozen women gathered
about the table toward which Mrs. Solomon Black was moving like the
central figure in some stately pageant.
"Fer pity sake!" whispered Mrs. Mixter, "what d' you s'pose she's got
under all that tissue paper?"
Mrs. Solomon Black set the great cake, still veiled, in the middle of
the table; then she straightened herself and looked from one to the
other of the eager, curious faces gathered around.
"There!" she said. "I feel now 's 'o' I could dror m' breath once
more. I ain't joggled it once, so's t' hurt, since I started from
home."
Then slowly she withdrew the shrouding tissue paper from the creation
she had thus triumphantly borne to its place of honor, and stood off,
a little to one side, her face one broad smile of satisfaction.
"Fer goodness' sake!"
"Did you ev--er!"
"Why, Mis' Black!"
"Ain't that just--"
"You never done that all yourself?"
Mrs. Black nodded slowly, almost solemnly. The huge cake which was
built up in successive steps, like a pyramid, was crowned on its
topmost disk by a bridal scene, a tiny man holding his tiny veiled
bride by the hand in the midst of an expanse of pink frosting. About
the side of the great cake, in brightly colored "mites," was
inscribed "Greetings to our Pastor and his Bride."
"I thought 'twould be kind of nice, seeing our minister was just
married, and so, in a way, this is a wedding reception.
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