Cindy Jones by Margaret Pearce

resent the professor’s decision to remarry anymore, even if he was going to marry a meanie like Mrs. Barry.
    Perhaps the professor had changed his mind. He sounded sad and depressed. Then again, if he had changed his mind, why hadn’t he said so?
    Cindy yawned. Her eyelids were getting heavy. Could her father change his mind at the actual ceremony? It was a nice thought to drift off to sleep with.

 
    Chapter Seventeen
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    Cindy inspected the big lounge room with mixed feelings. It was only another half-hour until the wedding.
    From the kitchen came the clatter of crockery. There were flowers everywhere; banked on the buffet, on all the mantelpieces, and in the big vases by the stairs. Long tables were set up in the second lounge room. Everything looked beautiful, but strange and unfamiliar, as if she had strayed into the wrong house.
    â€œHave you seen my black shoes, Cindy?” her father called.
    â€œUnder your bed.”
    Cars were pulling up. Cindy scowled at her clean jeans. She was going to look out of place. All the guests were dressed in good clothes.
    She opened the door to Jennifer and Mike, Mr. and Mrs. Waterbury, Thumb and Carrots, and then Gretta and George McLaren. The big lounge room was suddenly crowded with people laughing and talking.
    â€œEverything looks lovely,” Jennifer said. “Those pink silk curtains really set the room off. Why haven’t you changed, Cindy?”
    â€œInto what?” Cindy asked with a shrug. “I only have the dress Miss Hopkins lent me last night, or Prunella’s ghastly hand-me-downs.”
    â€œLet’s have a look,” Jennifer said cheerfully. “We can organize something.”
    â€œLike a miracle,” Cindy retorted as she led the way upstairs.
    â€œHum,” Jennifer mused as she studied the three offending dresses. “Do you have any nice blouses?”
    â€œMy new gray cotton, which I’m wearing, but I only have jeans to wear with it.”
    â€œIt matches the gray patterned dress,” Jennifer said.
    It did, too! The material in the dress was good quality silky cotton with the same shade of gray through it.
    â€œA nice sharp pair of scissors,” Jennifer ordered.
    Cindy produced the scissors and watched with fascinated horror as Jennifer put the gray dress on the floor and hacked the skirt off above the shirred waistline. Cindy pulled off her jeans and slipped the skirt on. The gray blouse and the gray patterned skirt looked a perfect match, except for the untidy raw waistline.
    Jennifer ripped open the full gathered neckline and started cutting. “There’s enough material here for a sash. We can turn the edges in. Find some safety pins to fasten it with.”
    When Jennifer had finished pinning the sash, the outfit looked surprisingly good. With the tailored cotton blouse and the full skirt swinging out from the tight sash, Cindy felt elegant and grown up.
    â€œGet those shoes and socks off, and wear the silver sandals,” Jennifer advised. “They will look better with that outfit.”
    After Cindy changed into the sandals and brushed her hair, she gave Jennifer a hug. It was amazing the confidence and pleasure that wearing the right clothes gave.
    â€œYou look very pretty, Cindy.” Her father beamed with pleasure when Cindy and Jennifer came downstairs. “I don’t know why you make such a fuss about wearing dresses.”
    Cindy smiled and moved around offering drinks and showing the guests to chairs. The minister was waiting by the flower-covered buffet, whispering to old George McLaren.
    Miss Hopkins smiled when she saw Cindy, but her head kept swiveling around as each newcomer came into the room. Everyone sat down. There was a lull. The pianist looked around and started playing. Cindy found a chair at the front. She thought the Professor looked nervous.
    Mrs. Barry, wearing a pale mauve dress and a matching picture hat, walked through the door. She carried