Free Father of the Bride by Edward Streeter Page B

Pops. Scared to death. ”
    Mr. Banks started and took a substantial swallow. “Scared? What are you scared of? Getting married isn’t anything to be scared of. Marriage is the most normal—”
    “Oh, Pops, I’m not scared of marriage . It’s much sillier than that . You see—” He always had a particular yen for Kay when she said “You see” and snuggled.
    “It’s this way, Pops. You know how I wanted a simple wedding—out in the country somewhere. Well, that’s out . We don’t live in the country. Period. But this thing is getting bigger an’ bigger an’ bigger . Oh, I know it’s ungrateful, Pops. You’re wonderful. But sometimes it scares the living daylights out of me.”
    Mr. Banks glanced toward the kitchen and dropped his voice. “You mean like going down the aisle?”
    “Every time I think of it, Pops, I turn into a cold sweat. Suppose my knees got shaking just as I started. And suppose they shook so finally that they let me down entirely and you had to drag me to the altar like a sack of meal. ”
    Mr. Banks regarded her for some moments with despair in his eyes. “We might both have a short snort just before the show starts,” he suggested finally, but without conviction.
    “No sir. That won’t do, Pops. I’m not going to blow gin in the minister’s face at my own wedding.”
    “I was thinking of a whiskey and soda,” said Mr. Banks. Then he pulled himself together with an almost visible effort. “Listen, Kitten. Get this into your head. There’s nothing to worry about. See? Nothing to worry about. All your life when you’ve been bothered I’ve been there, haven’t I? Well, I’ll be there when that wedding march starts. All you’ve got to do is to take my arm, lean on me and think about how you’re the most beautiful bride in the world and how proud I am of you. That’s all. Just relax. I’ll do the rest.”
    “Oh, Pops!” Kay was looking at him with loving reverence. “You are wonderful. Nobody could be scared with you. Nothing ever fazes you, does it, Pops?”

   10   
    IT IS EASIER TO GIVE THAN TO RECEIVE
    Anyone faced with the necessity of giving a wedding present should remember that only the first few to arrive will receive the admiration they deserve. Shop early and avoid oblivion.
    The first present came two days after the engagement had been announced in the papers. It was a hand-painted tray. Mrs. Banks had cleared out the spare room and set up, against the wall, a card table covered with her best tablecloth. Kay placed the tray on it like an acolyte arranging an altarpiece, while the family gathered reverently around. The boys became a bit shy and treated Kay with a new respect.

The family gathered reverently around.

For a few days it looked as if the first present might achieve the double honor of being the last as well. Then they began to move in; a thin trickle at first, growing steadily to a mighty stream. Mrs. Banks borrowed more card tables. Kay fluttered over them like a maternal barn swallow.
    The Banks family had not yet become accustomed to endless bounty. That someone should take the trouble to go out and purchase with hard money a gift of any sort, still filled them with tender gratitude. Regardless of merit, utility or beauty, these first presents were snatched from their wrappings with cries of wonder and delight.
    What puzzled Mr. Banks was that neither Mrs. Banks nor Kay ever forgot a detail in connection with any gift. For twenty-three years he had been impressed by the fact that neither of them seemed capable of grasping or retaining the most elementary details. Mrs. Banks could never remember, for example, whether the mortgage company owed Mr. Banks money or vice versa, and Kay still thought that the Rubaiyat was a toothpaste, but when it came to the matter of wedding presents, their donors and their sources, they both had memories like rogue elephants.
    In an attempt to show paternal interest Mr. Banks tried to compete during the early