ful enjoyment. Indeed, to many girls of fifteen and under, eighteen seems the climax of happiness. When they think of the years beyond eighteen, they can hardly imagine themselves taking any active enjoyment in life. Even Edith and Nora, and Amy, too, who were certainly rather sensible girls for their age, wondered that at twenty-three Agnes could still appear so young and cheerful.
The carriages that rolled away from the little church that bright September morning made an imposing array in the eyes of the natives who gathered at various points of vantage to see them pass. Nearly all of those who witnessed the wedding went on to the reception, for the Barlows had a large circle of intimate friends, and the spacious rooms of Rockley were soon crowded to overflowing. Many of the guests, indeed, found it pleasanter to wander out on the lawn, where two or three tables had been set under canopies.
Mr. Weston’s best man was a little too old to devote himself to Julia and Brenda, although he had ridden to the house in the carriage with them, and had treated them with a deference that, to Brenda especially, was very pleasing. The ushers, too, who had been chosen from the special friends of Agnes and Mr. Weston, were also, from Brenda’s point of view, very old, ranging anywhere from twenty-five to thirty. The one exception was a younger brother of Ralph Weston’s, Arthur by name, a junior at Yale, who, in consequence, took great delight in keeping himself at swords’-points with Philip and Tom and the rest of the Harvard men. But the girls, almost against their
