"Enright leads the way to the r'ar wareroom of the Noo York store, which bein' whar the stranglers holds their meetin's is Wolfville's hall of jestice. After licker is brought Enright sends Jack Moore for the postmaster, who comes in lookin' plenty white. Missis Rucker brings over the divine; an' next Dead Shot's widow––she's plumb lovely in black––appears on the arm of Peets, who goes in person.
"Thar's a question in the widow's eye, like she don't onderstand.
"'Roll your game,' says Enright to the preacher sharp.
"It's yere an' now Dead Shot's widow fully b'ars out that philos'pher who announces so plumb cold, that a-way, that women's the sublimation of the onexpected. Jack Moore's jest beginnin' to manoover that recreant public servant into p'sition on the widow's left hand, so's he can be married to the best advantage, an' the preacher sharp's gettin' out 34 an' openin' his book of rooles, when the widow draws back.
"P'intin' at the bridegroom postmaster, same as if he's a stingin' lizard, she addresses Enright.
"'Whatever's the meanin' of this?'
"'Merely the croode preelim'naries, Ma'am,' Enright explains, 'to what we-all trusts will prove a fa'rly deesir'ble weddin'.'
"'Me marry him?' an' the onmitigated scorn that relict exhibits, to say nothin' of her tone of voice, shore makes the postmaster bridegroom feel chagrined.
"'You'll pardon us, Ma'am,' returns Enright, soft an' depreecatory, tryin' to get her feelin's bedded down, 'which you'll shore pardon us if in our dullness we misreads your sentiments. You see, the notion gets somehow proned into us that you wants this party. Which if we makes a mistake, by way of repa'rin' that error, let me say that if thar's any one else in sight whom you preefers, an' who's s'fficiently single an' yoothful to render him el'gible for wedlock,'––yere Enright takes in Boggs an' Texas with his gaze, wharat Texas grows as green-eyed as a cornered 35 bobcat––'he's yours, Ma'am, on your p'intin' him out.'
"'Which I don't want to marry no one,' cries the widow, commencin' to sob. 'An' as for marryin' him speshul'––yere she glances at the bridegroom postmaster in sech a hot an' drastic way he's left shrivellin' in his own shame––'I'd sooner live an' die the widow of Dead Shot Abner Baker than be the wife of a cornfield full of sech.'