"And then," murmured Mr. Pickens, as if checking off a mental list, "there is a young man to go with the bridegroom, I believe. I never had one, but Miss Minnie says it's the fashion."
"Oh, yes, a 'best man!'" explained his hostess, "but—the bridegroom usually selects one of his intimate friends for that."
"I don't believe Mr. MacJacobs has any friends; round here, that is. He came from Tobyhanna, Pennsylvania, but he's never been there since he was a boy. He's been in New Orleans, and then in Europe, as travelling agent for MacVickar & Company. I suppose you've heard of them."
"I dare say I can find a best man."
"Thank you. You are very kind; yes, very kind indeed, I'm sure."
"I presume," interposed the host, in bland accents, "you wish to give away the bride yourself?"
"Yes!" said Mr. Pickens, starting; "oh, yes, I suppose I can, if there's not too much to do. Should I have to say anything?"
"Scarcely," replied the clergyman, reassuringly. "I ask a question to which you are supposed to reply, but a nod will be quite sufficient. The bridegroom is generally audible, and sometimes the bride, but I have never heard a sound proceed from the bride's father."
"Very good—very good; it will be very pleasant to join in your service, I am sure. Many thanks to you for your kind advice. I will now take my leave," and after a jerking bow or two he departed, with a sort of fluttering, bird-like step. The pastor laughed, but his wife looked sober.
"Our friend is as amusing a specimen as I ever encountered," he began.