“Yes, Josh,” feebly articulated Clara. “But don’t hug me so; the folks are lookin’ at us.”
“Well, let ’em look!” retorted Josh. “Guess they’d like tu be in my place a spell, ennyhow!” (I, for one, did most heartily envy him the position.)
“Yes; but, Josh, you know they will laugh at us,” meekly rejoined his companion.
“Let ’em laugh!” exclaimed the irate lover. “Don’t I love you, and don’t you love me, and ain’t we a-goin’ to git married to-morrer?”
Josh at this moment appeared as though a brilliant idea had struck him, for he suddenly bent over and kissed his fair companion squarely in the mouth.
“There!” said he, exultingly; “ain’t that nice? You don’t allers git them sort!” Then, turning to the occupants of the car, he exclaimed, “Strangers, me and this young woman have come down from the country to git married. She is a nice gal, and I’m a-goin’ to do the right thing by her!”
During the delivery of this concise speech, Clara’s face was suffused with blushes; noticing which, her ardent lover remarked, “Don’t git so all-fired red about the gills, Clara. You know that we are a-goin’ to be married; and what’s the use to fluster up so?”
This last speech settled the business of the passengers. They gave one shout, and relieved themselves of a charge of laughter that had almost strangled them. At the next corner I vacated the car, leaving the happy couple as contented as if the future denoted nothing but sunshine.
