terribly slick parlor floor among all the little tables full of treasures. Some old friends of hersâtwo little china dogsâseemed to be going around with her.
"I'm a flower girl," said India, following her. "Cousin Laura McRaven's not one, because Aunt Annie Laurie is dead. Cousin Maureen and Cousin Lady Clare are flower girls. Bluet's wild to be the ring-bearer but she can't beâshe's not a boy. That's Ranny."
"I'm going to have my bridesmaids start off in American Beauty and fade on out," said Dabney, turning about. "Two bridesmaids of each color, getting paler and paler, and then Shelley in flesh. She's my maid of honor."
"Of course," sighed Aunt Primrose.
"The Hipless Wonder," said India. "Her sweater belts go lower than anybody in
Virginia's.
"
"Why, India."
"Then me in pure white," Dabney said. "Everything's from Memphis, but nothing's come."
"But if it does come, it will all be exquisite, honey," said Aunt Primrose a little dimly.
"Everything's from Memphis but me. I have Mama's veil and Mashula's trainâI could hold a little flower from your yard, couldn't I?"
But both aunts looked a little gravely into her swaying glance.
"Who are the bridesmaids, Dabney, dear?" Aunt Jim Allen called out.
"Those fast girls I run with," said Dabney irresistibly. "The ones that dance all night barefooted..."
"Child!"
"She was just teasing," India said.
"Won't she take our present?" Aunt Primrose began to fan herself a little with the palmetto fan she had bound in black velvet so that when anyone wanted to pull it apart it couldn't be done.
"I hate toâI hate to take something you love!"
"Fiddlesticks!"
"We've never really
seen
Troy," Aunt Jim Allen said faintly. She did sound actually frightened of Troy. "Not close
to
âyou know." She indicated the walls of the green-lit parlor with her little ringed finger.
"You'll
have
to see him at the wedding," India told her loudly. "He has red hair and cat eyes and a
mus
tache."
"I'm going to have him trim that off, when we are married," said Dabney gravely.
"It's not as if you were going out of the Delta, of course," Aunt Jim Allen said, looking bemused from her little deaf perch on the sofa. "Now it's time you chose something."
Dabney stopped, and her hand reached out and touched a round flower bowl on the table in front of her. It was there between the two china retrieversâwas it the little bunny in one mouth that looked like Aunt Jim Allen, and the little partridge in the other that was Aunt Primrose? "I'd love a flower bowl," she said.
"You didn't take the prettiest," warned India.
Both aunts rose to see.
"No, no! No, indeed, you'll not take that trifling little thing! It's nothing but plain glass!"
"It came from Fairchild's Store!"
"Now you'll take something better than that, missy, something
we'd
want you to have," declared Aunt Primrose. She marched almost stiffly around the room, frowning at all precious possessions. Then she gave a low croon.
"The night light! She must have the little night light!" She stood still, pointing.
It was what they had all come to see when they were littleâthe bribe.
"Oh, I couldn't." Dabney drew back, holding the flower bowl in front of her.
"Put that down, child. She must have the night light, Jim Allen," said Aunt Primrose, raising her small voice a clear octave. "Dabney shall have it. It's company. That's what it is. That little light, it was company as early as I can rememberâwhen Papa and Mama died."
"As early as
I
can remember," said Aunt Jim Allen, making her little joke about being the older sister.
"Dabney, Dabney, they're giving you the night light," whispered India, pulling at her sister's hand in a kind of anguish.
"I love it." Dabney ran up and kissed them both and gave them both a big hug to make up for waiting like that.
"And Aunt Mashula loved itâthat waited for Uncle George, waited for him to come home from the Civil War till the lightning one early morning stamped
"I'm a flower girl," said India, following her. "Cousin Laura McRaven's not one, because Aunt Annie Laurie is dead. Cousin Maureen and Cousin Lady Clare are flower girls. Bluet's wild to be the ring-bearer but she can't beâshe's not a boy. That's Ranny."
"I'm going to have my bridesmaids start off in American Beauty and fade on out," said Dabney, turning about. "Two bridesmaids of each color, getting paler and paler, and then Shelley in flesh. She's my maid of honor."
"Of course," sighed Aunt Primrose.
"The Hipless Wonder," said India. "Her sweater belts go lower than anybody in
Virginia's.
"
"Why, India."
"Then me in pure white," Dabney said. "Everything's from Memphis, but nothing's come."
"But if it does come, it will all be exquisite, honey," said Aunt Primrose a little dimly.
"Everything's from Memphis but me. I have Mama's veil and Mashula's trainâI could hold a little flower from your yard, couldn't I?"
But both aunts looked a little gravely into her swaying glance.
"Who are the bridesmaids, Dabney, dear?" Aunt Jim Allen called out.
"Those fast girls I run with," said Dabney irresistibly. "The ones that dance all night barefooted..."
"Child!"
"She was just teasing," India said.
"Won't she take our present?" Aunt Primrose began to fan herself a little with the palmetto fan she had bound in black velvet so that when anyone wanted to pull it apart it couldn't be done.
"I hate toâI hate to take something you love!"
"Fiddlesticks!"
"We've never really
seen
Troy," Aunt Jim Allen said faintly. She did sound actually frightened of Troy. "Not close
to
âyou know." She indicated the walls of the green-lit parlor with her little ringed finger.
"You'll
have
to see him at the wedding," India told her loudly. "He has red hair and cat eyes and a
mus
tache."
"I'm going to have him trim that off, when we are married," said Dabney gravely.
"It's not as if you were going out of the Delta, of course," Aunt Jim Allen said, looking bemused from her little deaf perch on the sofa. "Now it's time you chose something."
Dabney stopped, and her hand reached out and touched a round flower bowl on the table in front of her. It was there between the two china retrieversâwas it the little bunny in one mouth that looked like Aunt Jim Allen, and the little partridge in the other that was Aunt Primrose? "I'd love a flower bowl," she said.
"You didn't take the prettiest," warned India.
Both aunts rose to see.
"No, no! No, indeed, you'll not take that trifling little thing! It's nothing but plain glass!"
"It came from Fairchild's Store!"
"Now you'll take something better than that, missy, something
we'd
want you to have," declared Aunt Primrose. She marched almost stiffly around the room, frowning at all precious possessions. Then she gave a low croon.
"The night light! She must have the little night light!" She stood still, pointing.
It was what they had all come to see when they were littleâthe bribe.
"Oh, I couldn't." Dabney drew back, holding the flower bowl in front of her.
"Put that down, child. She must have the night light, Jim Allen," said Aunt Primrose, raising her small voice a clear octave. "Dabney shall have it. It's company. That's what it is. That little light, it was company as early as I can rememberâwhen Papa and Mama died."
"As early as
I
can remember," said Aunt Jim Allen, making her little joke about being the older sister.
"Dabney, Dabney, they're giving you the night light," whispered India, pulling at her sister's hand in a kind of anguish.
"I love it." Dabney ran up and kissed them both and gave them both a big hug to make up for waiting like that.
"And Aunt Mashula loved itâthat waited for Uncle George, waited for him to come home from the Civil War till the lightning one early morning stamped
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