"What's wrong?" she stammered.
"Goad! They've quarrelled already!" exclaimed Peter MacMannish in a hoarse whisper.
"Did ye miss the train?" asked Janet.
"No, Jan, we missed the supper, and we made up our minds that it was too good to miss. We're going to do an original thing; we're going to dance at our own wedding."
The blacksmith struck up a waltz, and my wife and I waltzed round the room. I don't think that a wedding party was ever so jolly as ours.
The bairns escorted us to our bothy at two in the morning, and Margaret insisted on giving them a cup of tea before they went home.
Janet looked round the wee room.
"Eh, Maggie, what an awfu' place to spend yer honeymoon in!"
"Yes," said Margaret, "that's what comes of marrying a mean man. It's disgraceful, isn't it, Jan?"