The excitement soon spread over Ingleside, infecting even Mrs. Blythe and Susan.
“I’ll go to work on that cake at once,” vowed Susan, with a glance at the clock. “Mrs. Dr. dear, will you pick over the fruit and beat up the eggs? If you will, I can have that cake ready for the oven by the evening. Tomorrow morning we can make salads and other things. I will work all night if necessary to get the better of Whiskers-on-the-moon.”
Miranda arrived, tearful and breathless.
“We must fix over my white dress for you to wear,” said Rilla. “It will fit you very nicely with a little alteration.”
To work went the two girls, ripping, fitting, basting, sewing, for dear life. By dint of unceasing effort they got the dress done by seven o'clock and Miranda tried it on in Rilla’s room.
“It’s very pretty—but oh, if I could just have a veil,” sighed Miranda. “I’ve always dreamed of being married in a lovely white veil.”
Some good fairy evidently waits on the wishes of war brides. The door opened and Mrs. Blythe came in, her arms full of a filmy burden.
“Miranda dear,” she said, “I want you to wear my wedding veil tomorrow. It is twenty-four years since I was a bride at old Green Gables—the happiest bride that ever was—and the wedding veil of a happy bride brings good luck, they say.”
“Oh, how sweet of you, Mrs. Blythe,” said Miranda, the ready tears starting to her eyes.
The veil was tried on and draped. Susan dropped in to approve but dared not linger.
“I’ve got that cake in the oven,” she said, “and I
