“Of course Jimmy will be late,” she said.
“Are you sure he knows it’s today?” asked Wallie Roach.
“Yes. I called him up and reminded him an hour ago.”
“It’s just five o’clock,” said Ed. “If he were here now, he’d be on time, and if he were on time, he wouldn’t be Jimmy.”
“I won’t even begin to worry, for half an hour,” Brownie said.
But Jimmy surprised them all. His big car pulled up at eight minutes after five. He got out unhurriedly, kissed his bride, acknowledged an introduction to Ruth and shook hands with the others.
There was not the slightest trace of nervousness about him and, in spite of his rather foppish attire, he looked so much like the Jimmy Shane she had seen from “out front” that Ruth expected him to say something laughable.
Instead of which:
“Well, if we’re all set, let’s go. Dinner is on the ice.”
The party entered the church and Jimmy introduced them to the minister, getting the name wrong. Wallie and Dorothy “stood up” with the couple and Ben Seaton gave the bride away. The ceremony was brief. Everybody kissed the bride and Jimmy kissed everybody, including Ruth. Names were signed and the required documents delivered.
“We’ll meet at my place,” Ben announced. “Jimmy’ll take Brownie and Dorothy and Wallie and Ed in his car. Josie and Miss Richards will have the pleasure of riding with me.”
In the taxi Josie said: “Do you live in New York, Miss Richards?”
“No. Detroit,” said Ruth.
“That’s one town I never was in. Were you, Ben?”
“Yes. I played there two weeks with The Girl from Childs—they tell me.”
“I saw you in it,” said Ruth.
“Didn’t you get lonesome?”
“What do you mean?”
“All by yourself in that big theater?”
“There was a crowd the night I was there.”
“That was a rehearsal.”
“What was wrong with that troupe, Ben?” asked Josie.
“The musical director killed it. He stopped playing the overture and somebody rang up the curtain.”
Ruth had attended a great many weddings in Detroit and elsewhere and she seemed to remember that the conversation following the ceremony had usually been about the bride or groom, or both.
Miss King and Mr. Seaton, close friends of the newlyweds, went from a discussion of the ill-fated Childs’ Girl to reminiscences of past Follies and colloquy concerning the new musical for which both had been engaged and rehearsals begun.
The outsider finally ventured a remark designed to remind them of the day’s event. “Didn’t Miss Burt look perfectly lovely?”
“Great!” said Ben.
“It’s too bad more people couldn’t have seen her,” said Ruth. “Didn’t she want a big wedding?”
“No. Just a wedding.”
“It isn’t supposed to be a secret, is it?”
“There wouldn’t be any sense to it if it was a secret. It’ll be in the morning papers.”
“Of course,” said Ruth, “I live in ‘the hinterlands’ and we don’t hear all the Broadway gossip. So I never even knew they were engaged.”
This brought no response, but she persisted:
“Is it just recent?”
“Oh, no,” said Ben. “They’ve been engaged for years. How many years, Jo?”
“Five or six anyway.”
“Why did they wait so long?”
“I have no idea.”
“It couldn’t have been financial, could it? I mean they both must have plenty of money.”
“No. Jim never saved anything but Joe Miller’s books and Brownie bought a half interest in Florida in 1925.”
“They get huge salaries, don’t they?”
“They’ve each worked on percentage in their last couple of shows. I imagine Jim has averaged close to four thousand a week, and Brownie thirty-five hundred.”
“Well, heavens! You can’t spend that much!” said Ruth.
“You can if you apply yourself. As far as Brownie is concerned, there was the Florida thing and, besides, her last troupe only ran fifteen weeks. And it’s no trick for Jim to keep both ends strangers. You saw that car of his. There’s two others just like it, only different colors, so his driver won’t be bored.
“His big ace in the hole, though, is the horses. He hardly ever gets up in time to go to the track, but some of his best pals are jockeys and he plays their mounts and they always stay back where they can watch the race and describe it to him afterwards. They claim that fourth position is the best place to watch a race from. If you’re farther up front than that, you have to depend on hearsay.”
The taxi stopped in front of an apartment hotel on Fifty-fifth Street.
“Here’s the shack,” said Ben. “And there’s Jim’s car.”
They rode the elevator to Ben’s suite, consisting of living-room, bedroom and bath.
Two photographers were taking a flashlight of the bride and groom, holding hands. Wallie, Ed, Dorothy, and three reporters were having a cocktail.
“Well, men,” said Jim to the reporters, “you’ve got the church and the minister’s name and the names of the guests. That’s about all there is to it.”
“Where are you going on your honeymoon?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Here’s something that isn’t,” said Brownie, and showed them a bracelet of diamonds and sapphires.
Jim frowned. “You can leave that out,” he said.
“Why?” said Brownie.
“It sounds like boasting.”
“But I want to boast. I want people to know how nice you are.”
“How nice is he?” said one of the reporters.
“I mean, would you mind telling us about how much it cost? I’m not up in jewelry when it gets beyond Ingersoll watches.”
“I’m funny,” Jimmy said, “but not funny enough to tell what I spend on presents for my wife.”
“We’ll have to guess then. Is ten thousand close?”
“Close enough,” said Jimmy.
“It’s a mild estimate,” said Wallie Roach.
“Whatever it cost,” said Brownie, “it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Isn’t it, girls?”
The girls spoke enthusiastic agreement. The reporters left, Jimmy accompanying them into the hall.
“Put on a record, Ben,” he said when he came back. “It’s too early to eat.”
They all danced. The bride and groom danced together. Ben danced with Ruth. They had some more cocktails and danced again. This time Jimmy danced with Ruth.
“So you’re Alice’s sister.”
“Yes.”
“Alice ought to have gone in show business. You, too. You’ve got the looks. You’re one of the best-looking girls I ever saw.”
“You’ve
