"Now Ruth," said Aunt Jane, "you can go after the minister. My first
choice is Methodis', after that Baptis' and then Presbyterian. I will
entertain James durin' your absence."
Ruth was longing for fresh air and gladly undertook the delicate
mission. Before she was half way down the hill, she met Winfield, who
had come on the afternoon train.
"You're just in time to see a wedding," she said, when the first
raptures had subsided.
"Whose wedding, sweetheart? Ours?"
"Far from it," answered Ruth, laughing. "Come with me and I'll explain."
She gave him a vivid description of the events that had transpired
during his absence, and had invited him to the wedding before it
occurred to her that Aunt Jane might not be pleased. "I may be obliged
to recall my invitation," she said seriously, "I'll have to ask Aunty
about it. She may not want you."
"That doesn't make any difference," announced Winfield, in high spirits,
"I'm agoin' to the wedding and I'm a-goin' to kiss the bride, if you'll
let me."
Ruth smothered a laugh. "You may, if you want to, and I won't be
jealous. Isn't that sweet of me?"
"You're always sweet, dear. Is this the abode of the parson?"
The Methodist minister was at home, but his wife was not, and Ruth
determined to take Winfield in her place. The clergyman said that he
would come immediately, and, as the lovers loitered up the hill, they
arrived at the same time.
Winfield was presented to the bridal couple, but there was no time for
conversation, since Aunt Jane was in a hurry. After the brief ceremony
was over, Ruth said wickedly: "Aunty, on the way to the minister's, Mr. Winfield told me he was going
to kiss the bride. I hope you don't mind?"
Winfield looked unutterable things at Ruth, but nobly fulfilled the
obligation. Uncle James beamed upon Ruth in a way which indicated that
an attractive idea lay behind it, and Winfield created a diversion by
tipping over a vase of flowers. "He shan't," he whispered to Ruth, "I'll
be darned if he shall!"
"Ruth," said Aunt Jane, after a close scrutiny of Winfield, "if you'
relayin' out to marry that awkward creeter, what ain't accustomed to
a parlour, you'd better do it now, while him and the minister are both
here."
Winfield was willing, but Ruth said that one wedding at a time was
enough in any family, and the minister, pledged to secrecy, took his
departure. The bride cut the wedding cake and each solemnly ate a piece
of it. It was a sacrament, rather than a festivity.
When the silence became oppressive, Ruth suggested a walk.
"You will set here, Niece Ruth," remarked Aunt Jane, "until I have
changed my dress."
Uncle James sighed softly, as she went upstairs. "Well," he said,
"I'm merried now, hard and fast, and there ain't no help for it, world
without end."