“Them as has, gets,” murmured Mrs. Sykes, gloomily, as she tied on her Sunday bonnet.  She rather resented the kindness of nature upon this present occasion.  A nice rain would have suited her mood better.

Nevertheless, much as her mind misgave her in regard to the wedding, she was early on her way to the Elms to see if she could help.

“They’re sure to be flustrated,” she told herself.  “Aunt Amy’s just as likely as not to lose what little bit of head she has and hired help are broken reeds.  Esther will have the brunt of it.  She’ll be glad enough to see me, I’ll be bound.”

Do not imagine that Mrs. Sykes was curious.  Curiosity was a failing which she systematically repudiated.  But she was a very helpful person and it was wonderful how many opportunities of helpfulness she found upon solemn or joyous occasions.  If, while helping, her ears were open, and her eyes shrewd, can she be blamed for that?  There may be people with ears who hear not but they do not live in Coombe.  The only difficulty is to manage to be, like Mr. Micawber, on the spot.

Mrs. Sykes was early, but not too early.  When she slipped in at the side door there was already a stir of unusual movement in the house but the final flutter was still measurably distant.  Jane dashed past with crimped hair and white ribbons flying.  Miss Philps, very stately in a new gown, was arranging flowers in geometrical patterns.  Dr. Callandar, self-possessed as ever, talked upon the veranda with Professor Willits who had arrived the night before.  Aunt Amy was busy in the kitchen.  Esther, flushed and excited, with eyes that flashed blue fire, seemed everywhere at once.

“Oh, Mrs. Sykes,” she exclaimed, “how nice of you to come!  Won’t you please get Jane and tie her up—­her ribbons, I mean?  It is almost time to dress.”

“Would you like me to assist?” asked Miss Philps, looking up from a geometrical pattern.

“Oh, thanks, Miss Philps.  There are some hooks I cannot manage.  But mother will probably need a lot of help.  I thought you were with her now.”

“No.  She has not yet sent for me.”  Miss Philps drew out her watch and consulted it.  “Dear me!” with slight surprise, “it is much later than I thought.  Perhaps I had better go up.”

Esther looked worried.  “I believe you had—­if she hurries at the last she will be terribly excited.  Aunt Amy told me she wished particularly not to be disturbed this morning, but surely she has forgotten how late it is getting.”

“I’ll go up,” said Miss Philps.  “It’s time for her tonic anyway, and we must persuade her to eat something.  When you are ready for me to hook your dress, call.  I can easily manage you both.”

This is all that Mrs. Sykes heard, for just then Jane flew by again like a returning comet and had to be captured and properly tied up.  Mrs. Sykes, as she admitted herself, was no hand at fancy fixings but she was painstaking and conscientious and the bow-tying absorbed all her energies.  She was getting on very well and had almost succeeded in adjusting the last bow when a cry from the room above startled her into the tying of a double knot.