"Just as Mrs. Davison begin to play the organ, Ed 'n' Johnny come down with two clothes-lines wound 'round with clematis 'n' tied us all in where we sat. Then they went back 'n' we all stayed still 'n' could n't but wonder what under the sun was to be done to us next. But we did n't have long to wait, 'n' I will say as anythin' to beat Polly's ideas I never see—no—nor no one else neither.
"'Long down the aisle, two 'n' two, 'n' hand in hand, like they thought they was suthin' pretty to look at, come Ed 'n' Johnny 'n' Henry Ward Beecher 'n' Sam Duruy, 'n' I vow 'n' declare, Mrs. Lathrop, I never was so nigh to laughin' in church in all my life. They knowed they was funny, too, 'n' their mouths 'n' eyes was tight set sober, but some one in the back just had to giggle, 'n' when we heard it we knew as things as was n't much any other day would use us up this day, sure. They stopped in front 'n' lined up, two on a side, 'n' then, for all the world like it was a machine-play, the little door opened 'n' out come the minister 'n' solemnly walked down to between them. I must say we was all more than a little disappointed at its only bein' the minister, 'n' he must have felt our feelin's, for he began to cough 'n' clear up his throat 'n' his little desk all at once. Then Mrs. Davison jerked out the loud stop 'n' began to play for all she was worth, 'n' the door behind banged 'n' every one turned aroun' to see.
"Well, Mrs. Lathrop, we saw,—'n' I will in truth remark as such a sawin' we 'll never probably get a chance to do again! Mrs. Sweet says they practised it over four times at the church, so they can't deny as they meant it all, 'n' you might lay me crossways 'n' cut me into chipped beef 'n' still I would declare as I would n't have the face to own to havin' had any hand in plannin' any such weddin'.
"First come 'Liza Em'ly 'n' Rachel Rebecca hand in hand carryin' daisies—of all things in the world to take to a weddin'—'n' then come Brunhilde Susan, with a daisy-chain around her neck 'n' her belt stuck full o' daisies 'n'—you can believe me or not, jus' as you please, Mrs. Lathrop, 'n' still it won't help matters any—'n' a daisy stuck in every button down her back, 'n' daisies tangled up in her hair, 'n' a bunch o' daisies under one arm.
"Well, we was nigh to overcome by Brunhilde Susan, but we drawed some fresh breath 'n' kept on lookin', 'n' next come Polly 'n' Mr. Allen. I will say for Mr. Allen as he seemed to feel the ridiculousness of it all, for a redder man I never see, nor one as looked more uncomfortable. He was daisied, too—had three in his buttonhole;—but what took us all was the way him 'n' Polly walked. I bet no people gettin' married ever zigzagged like that before, 'n' Mrs. Sweet says they practised it by countin' two 'n' then swingin' out to one side, 'n' then countin' two 'n' swingin' out to the other—she watched 'em out of her attic window down through the broke blind to the church. Well, all I can say is, that to my order o' thinkin' countin' 'n' swingin' is a pretty frame o' mind to get a husband in, but so it was, 'n' we was all starin' our eyes off to beat the band when the little door opened 'n', to crown everythin' else, out come the deacon 'n Mr. Jilkins, each with a daisy 'n' a silk hat, 'n' I will remark, Mrs. Lathrop, as new-born kittens is blood-red murderers compared to how innocent that hat o' Mr. Jilkins looked. Any one could see as it was n't new, but he was n't new either as far as that goes, 'n' that was what struck me in particular about the whole thing—nothin' 'n' nobody was n't any different only for Polly's foolishness 'n' the daisies.
"Well, they sorted out 'n' begun to get married, 'n' us all sittin' lookin' on 'n' no more guessin' what was comin' next than a ant looks for a mornin' paper. The minister was gettin' most through 'n' the deacon was gettin' out the ring, 'n' we was lookin' to get up 'n' out pretty quick, when—my heavens alive, Mrs. Lathrop, I never will forget that minute—when Mr. Jilkins—poor man, he's sufferin' enough for it, Lord knows!—when Mr. Jilkins dropped his hat!
"That very next second him 'n' Ed 'n' Brunhilde Susan all hopped 'n' yelled at once, 'n' the next thing we see was the minister droppin' his book 'n' grabbin' his arm 'n' the deacon tryin' madly to do hisself up in Polly's veil. We would 'a' all been plum petrified at such goings on any other day, only by that time the last one of us was feelin' to hop and grab 'n' yell on his own account. Gran'ma Mullins was tryin' to slap herself with the seat cushion, 'n' the way the daisies flew as folks went over 'n' under that clematis rope was a caution. I got out as quick as I—"
"But what—" interrupted Mrs. Lathrop, her eyes fairly marble-like in their redundant curiosity.
"It was wasps!" said Susan. "It was a young wasps' nest in Mr. Jilkins's hat. Seems they carried their hats to church in their hands 'cause Polly did n't want no red rings around 'em, 'n' so he never suspected nothin' till he dropped it. 'N' oh, poor little Brunhilde Susan in them short skirts of hers—she might as well have wore a bee-hive! I will in confidence remark as I got off easy, 'n' you can look at me 'n' figger on what them as got it hard has got on them. Young Dr. Brown went right to work with mud 'n' Polly's veil 'n' plastered 'em over as fast as they could get into Mrs. Sweet's. Mrs. Sweet was mighty obligin' 'n' turned two flower-beds inside out 'n' let every one scoop with her kitchen spoons, besides runnin' aroun' herself like she was a slave gettin' paid. They took the deacon 'n' Polly right to their own house. They can't see one another anyhow, 'n' they was most all married anyway, so it did n't seem worth while to wait till the minister gets the use of his upper lip again."
"Why—" interrogated Mrs. Lathrop.