Father of the Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mr. Banks. Joe’s telling us a story. It’s a scream. Start it again for Mr. Banks, Joe.”
    “Well, it’s a very old story, sir. I’m sure you’ve heard it. It’s about a caliph’s daughter.” This struck the girl beside Mr. Banks as excruciating. She began to giggle hysterically. “It seems that many years ago in Persia there was a caliph who had a beautiful daughter. Have you heard this, sir? Well, one day a traveling salesman—”
    “Stanley, where have you been? Doris and Herbert are here.” It was Mrs. Banks.
    “Doris and Herbert who?” he asked.
    “Well, well, well. Glad to see you, Stanley,” boomed Mr. Dunstan. “Sorry to be so late. We got lost. Doris always insists—”
    “Now go and get Doris and Herb something to drink,” said Mrs. Banks.
    “Would you like a martini?” asked Mr. Banks hopefully.
    “If it’s all the same to you, Stan, we’ll take old-fashioneds. Can’t I help you?”
    “No, no,” said Mr. Banks. “It won’t take a second.”

No one paid the least attention to him.

He didn’t get back to the pantry a minute too soon. A group of thirst-crazed young men were just about to take the matter of service into their own hands. He sent the drinks out to the Dunstans and for the next hour he worked like a dike mender. The only compensation was that the guests now seemed less fussy about what they got. The roar from the living room sounded like a mob scene in a Cecil B. de Mille superspectacle.
    Then the crowd began to thin. The roar subsided. He could hear the die-hards gathering in the front hall for a final stand. Mr. Banks closed down his dispensary and rejoined the remnants, outwardly a genial host, but at heart a professional bouncer.
    “You’re a help,” said Mrs. Banks. “Good-by, dear. You were sweet to come.”
    “What do you think I’ve been doing? Playing pool?”
    “I know. But why must you always leave the whole thing on my shoulders? Good-by, Helen dear. You look sweet in that hat.”
    He considered the first part of her remark as unjust as the last was untrue. “Where are the Dunstans?”
    “They’re all right. They’re talking to Uncle Charlie or vice versa. Good-by, Sam. Glad you could come.”
    He found himself facing a blond young woman with big deer-like eyes. To his dismay she suddenly burst into tears. She was sorry, she sniffled, but this sort of thing did something to her. The thought occurred to Mr. Banks that it usually did if you took enough of it. He turned to help a highly pregnant young woman into her coat.
    She was joined immediately by the young man with horn-rimmed glasses who appeared to be her husband. “Hi, hi,” he said. “What’s going on here? What’s the idea? Who’s leaving? Party’s just warming up.” He raised his glass to Mr. Banks, who noted with dismay that it was a fresh one. “Sir, the best party ever. And that reminds me, you never heard the end of that story. It was about the caliph’s daughter. Remember? Well it seems a traveling salesman came to the palace. O.K., June, we’ll be on our way in a minute. I just want to tell Mr. Banks something. Well, as I say, this salesman came to the palace and he fell in love with the caliph’s daughter. Have you heard this one, sir?”
    A carefully manicured hand plucked his sleeve. “Mr. Banks. Please. I’ve lost an earring and Grace can’t find her gold compact and we’re absolutely sick about it. We’ve looked everywhere . It’s very peculiar.”
    Something in her voice gave Mr. Banks the feeling that he was under suspicion. Then he saw Mrs. Banks cornered underneath the curve of the stairs by a blond giant. She had her distress signals flying.
    “Don’t give it a thought,” he said, patting the manicured hand. “We’ll find everything later—after you’ve gone,” he added hastily. The blond giant was explaining to Mrs. Banks how lucky any man would be to have her for a mother-in-law. Mrs. Banks was obviously lapping it up like a kitten. Yet she had