Read Online The Moffat Museum by Eleanor Estes - Free Book Online
Authors: Eleanor Estes
Tags: Ages 8 & Up
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rose petals of the Buckles must be represented at the wedding. And another thing. I have written our name on this little bag of petals, for they have fallen from a special rosebush named after me, the Nellie B. Buckle rosebush. This bush was planted right here, in our very own garden, on the occasion of the opening of the Panama Canal, for that happened also to be my birthday. Historic petals! That's why the little bag is labeled."
Jane was stunned. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Buckle and Miss Buckle. Thank you both! My! Panama Canal petals!" And she backed down the walk, waving.
Now Jane was uneasy all over again. Labeling petals!
Thank goodness,
she thought,
nobody else told me to label their petals! When they flutter down, all will get mixed together anyway. Anyone who wants to can say, "Did you see my Mrs. Perkins's rose petals land on the bride? On her wedding veil?" And someone else might say, "You think so? I thought they were mine!
"
Jane decided to put the special little bag of Panama Canal rose petals under Rufus's wax face, where it wouldn't get mixed up with ordinary Ashbellows Place petals. Maybe tomorrow she would wear it inside her flat hat, tuck the little bag over her left ear, handy for whatever she wanted to do with the petals when the time came.
When she came up out of the cellar, there was Sylvie, hot and breathless ... and excited!
"Jane!" she said. "Ray decided we should have a rehearsal for the wedding right now in church. At first we weren't going to have anyone in the wedding ... just him and me and the minister. Then he let me have you in it. Who knows what Ray will think of next! He's sort of excited. That's why the rehearsal. I've been looking all over for you. In the apple tree, on the fences, behind the raspberry bushes! Look at your hands! Look at them! And your face! Scratches all over you! Oh, wash them! Hurry!"
Jane washed her face and hands. Mama didn't put iodine on the scratches because Jane then would have looked worse than ever. She just daubed them with peroxide. It stung a little and fizzled nicely.
Then Jane and Sylvie flew off to the church, where the Reverend Mr. Abbot was pacing, pacing, at the door.
"Ah, at last!" he said in relief. "The Reverend Mr. Gandy is here to tell us what to do and what to say when. Naturally, I, being a minister, already know. But now we have the bride here and the flower girl and myself. But let's see. If we're going to have a flower girl, we ought to have somebody to give the bride away. Not me. I'm not giving her away ever!"
He gave Sylvie a reassuring hug right there in church with the door wide open.
"But," he added, "now the wedding party is growing ... flower girl ... Maybe we should have a 'giver-away' of the bride. Whoever that may be should be here, too, along with us, to practice the giving-away of the bride."
"Oh!" said Sylvie. "Who? Could Joey?" she said. "My brother Joey?"
"Joey!" Ray studied the idea. "How old is Joey?"
"Fifteen now. But he will be sixteen in September. And he is taller than I am," said Sylvie.
"I'll ask the rector," Ray said.
Jane thought,
Maybe Sylvie can't get married if they don't let Joey give her away
. Then, what about the rose petals so fresh and sweet and cool in the cellarway?
But, thank goodness! Ray came back from his conference with the Reverend Mr. Gandy, who had looked in the baptism records and said that yes, Joseph Moffat had been baptized almost sixteen years ago, and a few months this side or that side of sixteen should not matter. In his opinion, Joey could be the man who would give his sister away in holy matrimony.
"So," said Ray happily, "hurry home, Jane, and tell Joey to come here as fast as he can on his bike. You can ride on the handlebars. Oh, and tell him to wear long pants. He'll look older then than he does in his knickers. We're pushing in an under-sixteen fellow to be the giver-away of the bride."
"But," said Jane, aghast for Joey, "he doesn't own any long pants!"
"Never mind for
Jane was stunned. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Buckle and Miss Buckle. Thank you both! My! Panama Canal petals!" And she backed down the walk, waving.
Now Jane was uneasy all over again. Labeling petals!
Thank goodness,
she thought,
nobody else told me to label their petals! When they flutter down, all will get mixed together anyway. Anyone who wants to can say, "Did you see my Mrs. Perkins's rose petals land on the bride? On her wedding veil?" And someone else might say, "You think so? I thought they were mine!
"
Jane decided to put the special little bag of Panama Canal rose petals under Rufus's wax face, where it wouldn't get mixed up with ordinary Ashbellows Place petals. Maybe tomorrow she would wear it inside her flat hat, tuck the little bag over her left ear, handy for whatever she wanted to do with the petals when the time came.
When she came up out of the cellar, there was Sylvie, hot and breathless ... and excited!
"Jane!" she said. "Ray decided we should have a rehearsal for the wedding right now in church. At first we weren't going to have anyone in the wedding ... just him and me and the minister. Then he let me have you in it. Who knows what Ray will think of next! He's sort of excited. That's why the rehearsal. I've been looking all over for you. In the apple tree, on the fences, behind the raspberry bushes! Look at your hands! Look at them! And your face! Scratches all over you! Oh, wash them! Hurry!"
Jane washed her face and hands. Mama didn't put iodine on the scratches because Jane then would have looked worse than ever. She just daubed them with peroxide. It stung a little and fizzled nicely.
Then Jane and Sylvie flew off to the church, where the Reverend Mr. Abbot was pacing, pacing, at the door.
"Ah, at last!" he said in relief. "The Reverend Mr. Gandy is here to tell us what to do and what to say when. Naturally, I, being a minister, already know. But now we have the bride here and the flower girl and myself. But let's see. If we're going to have a flower girl, we ought to have somebody to give the bride away. Not me. I'm not giving her away ever!"
He gave Sylvie a reassuring hug right there in church with the door wide open.
"But," he added, "now the wedding party is growing ... flower girl ... Maybe we should have a 'giver-away' of the bride. Whoever that may be should be here, too, along with us, to practice the giving-away of the bride."
"Oh!" said Sylvie. "Who? Could Joey?" she said. "My brother Joey?"
"Joey!" Ray studied the idea. "How old is Joey?"
"Fifteen now. But he will be sixteen in September. And he is taller than I am," said Sylvie.
"I'll ask the rector," Ray said.
Jane thought,
Maybe Sylvie can't get married if they don't let Joey give her away
. Then, what about the rose petals so fresh and sweet and cool in the cellarway?
But, thank goodness! Ray came back from his conference with the Reverend Mr. Gandy, who had looked in the baptism records and said that yes, Joseph Moffat had been baptized almost sixteen years ago, and a few months this side or that side of sixteen should not matter. In his opinion, Joey could be the man who would give his sister away in holy matrimony.
"So," said Ray happily, "hurry home, Jane, and tell Joey to come here as fast as he can on his bike. You can ride on the handlebars. Oh, and tell him to wear long pants. He'll look older then than he does in his knickers. We're pushing in an under-sixteen fellow to be the giver-away of the bride."
"But," said Jane, aghast for Joey, "he doesn't own any long pants!"
"Never mind for
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