"To-morrow is my wedding day," said Emily Byrd Starr--soon to be Emily Byrd Kent--in a wondrous tone of voice. She sat out in the garden at old, beautiful New Moon, the home of countless and distinguished Murrays, with her childhood friend Isle Burnley--who could claim Murray distinction many times removed. But any claim on Murray-hood was worth having, no matter how slim.

"It is amazing," Isle agreed. "To think of you married! I've almost forgiven you and Teddy for going first--Perry and I must wait until the summer, when Parliament is out of session. But you're stealing my glory, and oh, I don't like having my glory stolen. You Antarctic wildebeest!"

Emily raised her eyebrows to lofty heights at that, but Ilse's remark was followed by a smile and an impulsive kiss.

"Honestly, I don't mind a-tall," Ilse said.

"You shouldn't," Emily retorted. "Because you had your chance!"

The girls looked at each other and burst into peals of laughter, Ilse's like a trumpet and Emily's like the song of a sweet summer lark.

"Yes," said Ilse finally. "And aren't you glad I didn't take it? I'd be Mrs. Teddy Kent right now, and you'd be--"

"Mrs. Perry Miller, if I wanted," said Emily loftily.

"Ooh! Touche." Ilse laughed again. "Oh, Emily, what a mess we made of things! But it's all straightened out now, thanks to goodness. And you and Teddy are going to have a honeymoon?"

"Yes--he is taking me to Paris."

"And Perry wants to go to Halifax!" Ilse moaned. "Hardly romantic. But I said I'd go anywhere in the world with him, so I suppose I must keep my promise. So Paris, and then on to the Disappointed House for you?"

"Yes--only we aren't calling it the Disappointed House anymore," said Emily dreamily, her head filled with purple, cloud-like visions for the future. "We've decided that our house will be called 'Evensong.' I've been reading Tennyson."

"Have you?" said Ilse.

Emily quoted:

A spirit haunts the year's last hours

Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers.

To himself he talks.

For at evensong, listening earnestly,

At his work you may hear him sob and sigh

In the walks;

Earthward he bowseth the heavy stalks

Of the moldering flowers.

Heavily hangs the broad sunflower

Over its grave i' the earth so chilly;

Heavily hangs the hollyhock,

Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.

"That's a sad poem," said Ilse, shivering.

"Do you think so?" asked Emily pensively. "I got the flash when I read those lines--my mind conjured up a picture of a winter dream, with the snow falling softly down and me snug and cozy at home in the purply twilight watching it come. All the words for twilight are beautiful: dusk, half-light, vespers--but eventide is the nicest of all. 'The spirit' that Tennyson talks of is only the spirit of Summer--I've always thought Summer was the most stubborn of seasons--it hangs round so long, and is so reluctant to leave. Whereas Winter comes and goes gracefully, like a girl in white lace."

Ilse shook her head. "I don't know what you are talking about half the time."

"Of all the seasons, I love winter best, I think," said Emily. "Think of all of the winters I shall spend in my little home--with Teddy--and friends--and family. And the springs, and summers--oh Ilse, how much I have to look forward to!"

"I love you, you simpering crocodile," said Ilse, affectionately.

* * *

Teddy came later, after Ilse was gone, and he and Emily had a ramble in Lofty John's Bush, making plans for their life together and thrilling over their nearness to one another. Aunt Elizabeth watched them as she washed the supper dishes. Part of her did not believe that the wedding would actually take place, despite the table in the dining room being set with the best china and Great-Grandmother Murray's lace veil hanging over Emily's bedroom door. Emily had always been--tempermental. She got that from the Starrs. She must. Murrays always stuck to whatever they said.

Aunt Elizabeth was pleased with Teddy Kent. He was not Andrew Murray--their first choice for Emily--and he was not from a well to-do family--his mother had been queer. But she was gone now. Perhaps it ran in the family? Earlier Aunt Ruth had remarked that Emily could not afford to be too picky. She wrote. And she was not too terribly pretty, after all. Aunt Elizabeth had not been able to argue with her over that. Emily was not pretty--but she was beautiful, in an ethereal, indescribable way. So she had simply looked at Ruth coldly.

Aunt Elizabeth noticed that for some time she had been standing with her hands in the soapy dishwater, and felt embarrassed at her idleness. Imagine, letting her thoughts run away with her like that, as if she were--as if she were Emily! There were still dishes to put away, and a fire must be lit in the parlor to air it out.

The clock in the hallway struck midnight, and Aunt Elizabeth hurried to the window and threw up the sash. "Emily! Come inside immediately!" The bride and groom were not supposed to see each other on their wedding day. It was bad luck. And Aunt Elizabeth was not taking any chances.

Hidden safely in the spruce grove, Emily leaned forward and gave Teddy a kiss.

"It's our wedding day!" she said.