Read Online The Beloved Stranger by Grace Livingston Hill - Free Book Online Page A

a trying place, the worst place she could have been. She knew that when she chose it. But she had to face the music, and knew it was better to do it merrily at the head of the line than skulking at the foot where there would be plenty of time for explanation and questions.
    So as the crowd of guests surged into the big lovely room, filled with curiosity and excitement, and ready to pull any secret one might have from the air and waft it to the world, it was Sherrill who stood at the head of the line in her lettuce-green taffeta, the little frock she had bought as a whimsy at the last minute, her second-best silver shoes, and the gorgeous Catherwood emeralds blazing on her neck and arms and finger. She was wafting her great feather fan graciously, and by her side was a handsome stranger! Would wonders never cease? The guests stepped in, gave one eager avid glance, and hastened to the fray.
    Aunt Pat was next to the stranger, smiling her cat-in-the-cream smile, with twinkles in her eyes and a grim look of satisfaction.
    “You ought to be at the head of the line, Aunt Pat,” demurred Sherrill. “I really don’t belong in this line at all.”
    “Stay where you are!” commanded the old lady. “This is your wedding, not mine. Run it the way you please. I’m only here to lend atmosphere.” She said it from one corner of her mouth, and she twinkled at the stranger. She was standing next to the bride and groom, but she hadn’t addressed two words to them since her congratulations. However, they were getting on fairly well with the best man and maid of honor on the other side, and the stage was set for the great oncoming crowd.
    Mrs. Battersea with her ultramodern daughter-in-law in the wake headed the procession, with the Reamers, the Hayworths, and the Buells just behind. They represented the least intimate of the guests, the ones who would really be hard to satisfy. Sherrill, with a furtive glance up at the tall stranger by her side, aware of his kindly, reassuring grin, felt a sudden influx of power in herself to go through this ordeal. It helped, too, to realize that several others were having an ordeal also. It probably wasn’t just what this stranger would have chosen to do, to play his part in this strange pageant, and she was sure Aunt Pat hated it all, though she was entering into the scene with a zest as if she enjoyed it. Aunt Pat hated publicity like a serpent.
    And there were the bride and groom. One could scarcely expect them to enjoy this performance. Sherrill cast them a furtive glance. The bride was a game little thing. She was holding her head high and conversing bravely with all those chattering bridesmaids, who kept surging out of line to get a word with her. And Carter, well, Carter had always been able to adjust himself to his surroundings pretty well, but there was a strained white look about him. Oh, whatever he might have felt for either of his prospective brides, it was scarcely likely that he was enjoying this reception. It was most probable that he would give all he possessed to have a nice hole open in the floor and let him and his Arla through out of sight.
    So Sherrill drew a deep breath, summoned a smile, and greeted Mrs. Battersea, sweeping up in purple chiffon with orchids on her ample breast.
    “Now, Sherrill, my dear,” said the playful lady, “what does this all mean? You’ve got to give us a full explanation of everything.”
    “Why, it was just that we thought this would be a pleasant way to do things,” smiled Sherrill. “Don’t you think it was a real surprise? Mrs. Battersea, do let me introduce my friend Mr. Copeland of Chicago. Oh, Mrs. Reamer, I’m so glad you got well in time to come!”
    Suddenly Sherrill felt a thrill of triumph. She was getting away with it! Actually she was! Mrs. Battersea had been not only held at bay but also entirely sidetracked by this new young man introduced into the picture. She closed her mouth on the question that had been just ready to pop