“I don’t see but they are all right,” was the smiling reply of the rosy-cheeked maiden. “They have placed me under everlasting obligations, I do assure you.” She arose to greet a handsome visitor, whom she proudly introduced to them as “my affianced husband.”
The preacher’s joy was unbounded when Captain Ranger invited him to perform a quadruple marriage ceremony on the morrow,—an incident he hailed as an augury of the further social and financial assistance of which he felt so much in need that he began at once to solicit aid for the erection of a church and parsonage.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t begin to bother us about this innovation for a week or two!” exclaimed the Captain. “I’ll see that you are fed and housed for the present. As Jean will be leaving us, we shall need a school-teacher. My wife will not want an outsider to use our house for the school; so we must make a schoolhouse and meeting-house combined, and let it suffice for the present.”
The morning brought a scene of hurry, bustle, and happiness. Long tables were spread upon the lawn, under the wide-spread branches of the luxuriant fir-tree the woodman had spared when the land was cleared. Flowers and ferns from the wildwood added glow and fragrance to the loaded tables. Mary and Jean, rosy with expectation, flitted everywhere.
“Did you ever in all your born days see such a wonderful man as my daddie?” asked Jean, addressing Sally O’Dowd; and the happy woman answered, “I never did.”
Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Ranger, the latter resplendent in a satin gown of latest fashion, were conspicuous assistants; and their children, all of whom were gotten up for the occasion by their happy mother regardless of expense, were the observed of all observers. These children, added to the younger members of Captain Ranger’s brood, the three children of Mrs. O’Dowd, and Susannah’s “coon,” made a formidable array of young Americans.
At the appointed hour, Mrs. McAlpin, who had arrived early on horseback to assist in the preparations, was joined by Mr. Burns, who brought to her a sealed package, long overdue, concerning which they kept their own counsel. But in anticipation of its arrival, they had allowed a “personal” to appear in the local paper in due season, as follows: “Mrs. Adele Benson, the handsome widow who spent a few days in this city after crossing the plains last year, and whose widowed daughter, Mrs. Daphne McAlpin, is soon to be the bride of our distinguished fellow-citizen, Mr. Rollin Burns, recently astonished her friends in Oregon with the announcement of her marriage in London to the Right Honorable Donald McPherson, only son and heir of Lady Mary McPherson, whose extensive estates are the pride and envy of High-Head on the Thames.”
The appointed hour had come, and the four brides expectant were beaming and beautiful in their simple and becoming array. Mr. Burns and Mr. Buckingham awaited the signal to descend with their brides. But where was Ashton Ashleigh?
Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed, and he did not come. The dinner was spoiling, and Susannah was furious.