The Enchanted Profile
67
Of course, I was invited to the wedding. After the ceremony I dragged Lathrop aside.
“You an artist,” said I, ‘‘and have n’t figured out why Maggie Brown conceived such a strong liking for Miss Bates—that was? Let me show you.”
The bride wore a simple white dress as beautifully draped as the costumes of the ancient Greeks. I took some leaves from one of the decorative wreaths in the little parlour, and made a chaplet of them, and placed them on née Bates’s shining chestnut hair, and made her turn her profile to her husband.
“By jingo!” said he. “Is n’t Ida’s a dead ringer for the lady’s head on the silver dollar?”
