"Charles, you forget yourself!" she said. "It is not for you to tell your mother she is making a mistake. You must not think that because you have been to college you can therefore teach your mother how to conduct her affairs. Stand out of my way, and then follow me to the carriage. You are displeasing me greatly. It would have been better for you to remain in Boston than to come here to talk to your mother in this way." The majestic lady marched on her way to the carriage, followed by her frightened sister-in-law, who scuttled after her tearfully, not knowing which to dread the most, her sister-in-law’s tyranny, the wrath of her brother, or the scorn of her nephew. The habit of her life had been always to follow the stronger nature. In this case it was Madam Winthrop. Father and son stood looking on helplessly. Then the father called: "Well, Janet, if you must go, leave the girls at home with Martha." The aunt drew back timidly from the carriage-step she was approaching. "Get in at once, Martha!" commanded Madam Winthrop, already established in the back seat of the coach. "We have no time to waste. Girls, you may drive on ahead until we reach the cross-roads. Elizabeth, your conduct is unseemly for such a joyous occasion. What will the neighbors think to see your flushed, excited face? Wipe your eyes and pull down your veil. Drive on, Cordelia, and see that Elizabeth’s conduct is more decorous." She waved the carryall on, and Cordelia and Madeleine, awed and half-frightened, obeyed, while excitable Betty strove to put by the signs of her perturbation until she was out of her mother’s sight. In brief whispers she had succeeded in conveying to her sisters a slight knowledge of what had occurred. The old coachman and the stable boy stood wondering by and marvelled that the wedding had gone to Madam’s head. They had seen her in these imperious moods, but had not thought this an occasion for one. Some one must have displeased her very much, for her to get in a towering rage on the day before her eldest son’s wedding. "Now, Mr. Winthrop, we are ready, if you and Charles will take your seats." Father and son looked at each other in dismay. "I guess there’s nothing for it but to get in, Father. Perhaps you can bring her to her senses on the way, and I can drive back with her, or they can stop at an inn, while we go on. It really won’t do to delay, for we have a duty to the Van Rensselaers." "You are right, Charles. We must go. Perhaps, as you say, we can persuade Mother on the way. I am dubious, however. She is very set in her way." "Mr. Winthrop, you will need only to get your hat," called his wife from the coach. "I have had your portmanteau and Charles’s fastened on behind. Your things are all here. Your hat is lying on the hall table."