"No,I'm quite sober,"she explained;"but I'm changin'the 'abits of a lifetime just to show it can be done."Then she hurried home to clean up the house.After much thought,she had decided to hold the reception after the wedding in the front room,as it was the largest.She spent an hour carrying the irons,boards,and other implements of the laundry into the back rooms.A neighbour,who poked her head in,asked if she were moving.But when she had finished the cleaning,she surveyed the result with surprise.The room was scrubbed as bare as a shaven chin.So she took some coloured almanacs from the bedroom and kitchen,and tacked them on the walls,studying the effect with the gravity of a decorative artist.The crude blotches of colour pleased her eye,and she considered the result with pride."Wonderful 'ow a few pitchers liven a place up,"she thought.
She looked doubtfully at the chairs.There were only three,and,years ago,her immense weight had made them as uncertain on their legs as drunkards.She generally sat on a box for safety.Finally,she constructed two forms out of the ironing-boards and some boxes.Then she fastened two ropes of pink tissue paper,that opened out like a concertina,across the ceiling.This was the finishing touch,and lent an air of gaiety to the room.
For two hours past Ada and Pinkey had been decorating one another in the bedroom.When they emerged,Mrs Yabsley cried out in admiration,not recognizing her own daughter for the moment.Their white dresses,freshly starched and ironed by her,rustled stiffly at every movement of their bodies,and they walked daintily as if they were treading on eggs.
Both had gone to bed with their hair screwed in curling-pins,losing half their sleep with pain and discomfort,but the result justified the sacrifice.Ada's hair,dark and lifeless in colour,decreased the sullen heaviness of her features;Pinkey's,worn up for the first time,was a barbaric crown,shot with rays of copper and gold as it caught the light.
"Yous put the kettle on,an'git the tea,an'I'll be ready in no time,"said Mrs Yabsley."W'en I was your age,I used ter take 'arf a day ter doll meself up,an'then git down the street with a brass band playin'inside me silly 'ead;but now,gimme somethin'new,if it's only a bit o'ribbon in me 'at,an'I feel dressed up ter the knocker."At seven o'clock Jonah and Chook arrived.They were dressed in the height of larrikin fashion--tight-fitting suits of dark cloth,soft black felt hats,and soft white shirts with new black mufflers round their necks in place of collars--for the larrikin taste in dress runs to a surprising neatness.But their boots were remarkable,fitting like a glove,with high heels and a wonderful ornament of perforated toe-caps and brass eyelet-holes on the uppers.
Mrs Yabsley,moved by the solemn occasion,formally introduced Chook and Pinkey.They stared awkwardly,not knowing what to say.In a flash,Chook remembered her as the red-haired girl whom he had chiacked at the corner.As he stared at her in surprise,the impudence died out of his face,and he thought with regret of his ferocious jest and her stinging reply.Pinkey grew uneasy under his eyes.Again the curious pink flush coloured her cheeks,and she turned her head with a light,scornful toss.
That settled Chook.In five minutes he was looking at her with the passionate adoration of a savage before an idol,for this Lothario of the gutter brought to each fresh experience a surprising virginity of emotion that his facile,ignoble conquests left untouched.Jonah broke the silence by complimenting the ladies on their appearance.
"My oath,yer a sight fer sore eyes,yous are!"he cried."I'm glad yer don't know 'ow giddy yer look,else us blokes wouldn't 'ave a chance,would we,Chook?"The girls bridled with pleasure at the rude compliments,pretending not to hear them,feeling very desirable and womanly in their finery.
"Dickon ter you,"said Mrs Yabsley."Yer needn't think they're got up ter kill ter please yous.It's only ter give their clobber an airin',an'keep out the moths."When it was time to set out for the church,the five were quite at their ease,grinning and giggling at the familiar jokes on marriage,broad as a barn door,dating from the Flood.Mrs Yabsley toiled in the rear of the bridal procession,fighting for wind on account of the hill.She kept her fist shut on the two half-dollars for the parson;the wedding ring,jammed on the first joint of her little finger for safety,gave her an atrocious pain.At length they reached Cleveland street,and halted opposite the church.
The square tower of Trinity Church threw its massive outline against the faint glow of the city lights,keeping watch and ward over the church,that had grown grey in the service of God,like a fortress of the Lord planted on hostile ground.And they stood together,the grim tower and the grey church,for a symbol of immemorial things--a stronghold and a refuge.
The wedding party walked into the churchyard on tiptoe as if they were trespassers.Then,unable to find the door in the dark,they walked softly round the building,trying to see what was going on inside through the stained-glass windows.Their suspicious movements attracted the attention of the verger,and he followed them with stealthy movements,convinced that they meditated a burglary.When he learned their errand,he took charge of the party.They entered the church like foreigners in a remote land.Another wedding was in progress,so they sat down in the narrow,uncomfortable pews,waiting their turn.When Chook caught sight of the Canon in his surplice and bands,he uttered a cry of amazement.
"Look at the old bloke.'E's wearin''is shirt outside!"The two girls were convulsed,turning crimson with the effort to repress their giggles.Mrs Yabsley was annoyed,feeling that they were treating the matter as a farce.
