Miss Oleander's ante-nuptial objections had been faint; Mrs.
Walraven, less scrupulous, turned upon her husband at the eleventh hour,
just previous to starting, and insisted that she should be left at home.
"It will be ridiculous in the extreme," exclaimed the bride, "having
your ward traveling with us! Let her remain at home with your mother."
Mr. Walraven looked his bride steadfastly in the eye for a moment, then
sat down deliberately.
"Look here, Mrs. Walraven," said Mr. Walraven, perfectly cool, "you
have made a little mistake, I fancy. Permit me to rectify it. Wearing
the breeches is a vulgar expression, I am aware, and only admissible
in low circles; still, it so forcibly expresses what I am trying to
express, that you will allow me to use it. You are trying to don the
inexpressibles, Blanche, but it won't do. My ward goes with us on our
bridal tour, or there shall be no bridal tour at all. There! you have it
in plain English, Mrs. Carl Walraven!"
Five minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Walraven descended to the carriage, Mrs.
Walraven with her veil drawn down, and making her adieus in a smothered
sort of voice.
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