Neither was there any time to be lost over the invitations. Miss
Felicia, we may be sure, prepared the list. It never bothered her
head whether the trip to Geneseo--and that, too, in the fall of
the year, when early snows were to be expected--might prevent any
of the invited guests from witnessing the glad ceremony. Those who
loved Ruth she knew would come even if they had to be accompanied
by St. Bernard dogs with kegs of brandy tied to their necks to get
them across the glaciers, including Uncle Peter, of course; as
would also Ruth's dear grandmother, who was just Miss Felicia's
age, and MacFarlane's saintly sister Kate, who had never taken off
her widow's weeds since the war, and two of her girl friends, with
whom Ruth went to school, and who were to be her bridesmaids.
Then there were those who might or might not struggle through the
drifts, if there happened to be any--the head of the house of
Breen, for instance, and Mrs. B., and lots and lots of people of
whom Jack had never heard, aunts and uncles and cousins by the
dozens; and lots and lots of people of whom Ruth had never heard,
of the same blood relationship; and lots more of people from
Washington Square and Murray Hill, who loved the young people, and
Peter, and his outspoken sister, all of whom must be invited to
the ceremony; including the Rector and his wife from Corklesville,
and--(no--that was all from Corklesville) together with such
selected inhabitants of Geneseo as dame Felicia permitted inside
of her doors.
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