Father's likely, when Doctor Elder asks who gives the bride away, to
murmur, 'Charlotte Wendell,' thinking he's inquiring the child's name."
Charlotte threw him a glance, half-shy, half-merry. "As best man you
should be saying complimentary things about your friend's choice."
"I am. The trouble is you're not old enough to enjoy being mistaken for
a babe in arms."
"I don't think she looks like a child. I think she's the stunningest
young woman I ever saw!" declared Just, with enthusiasm. "If her hair
was done up on top of her head she'd be a regular queen."
Celia laughed. Her own beautiful blond locks were piled high, and the
style became her. But Charlotte's dusky braids were prettier low on the
white neck, in the girlish fashion in which they had long been worn, and
Celia announced this fact with a loving touch on the graceful _coiffure_
her own hands had arranged for her sister.
"You can't improve her," she said. "She looks like our Charlotte, and
that's just the way we want her to look. That's what Andy wants, too."
"Of course he does. And I can tell you, he looks like Andy," Lanse
asserted.
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