"Well, now, Mr. Reynolds," rejoined Mrs. Younker, "I'm a considerable older woman nor you ar—that is, I mean to say, I'm a much older individule—and I 'spect I've had in my time some lettle experience in matters that you don't know nothing about; and so you musn't go to thinking hard o' me, ef I give you a lettle advice, and tell you to stay right whar you ar, and not stir a single step away for three weeks;—'cause ef you do, your wound may get rupturous agin, and in some lone place jest carry you right straight off into the shader o' the valley of death—as our good old Rev. Mr. Allprayer used to say, when he wanted to comfort the sick. O, dear good man he war, Preacher Allprayer,"—continued the voluble old lady, with a sigh, her mind now wholly occupied with his virtues—"dear good man he war! I jest remember—Lor bless ye, I'll never forgit it—how he come'd to me when I war sick—with tears a running out o' his eyes like he'd been eating raw inyuns, poor man—and told me that I war going to die right straight away, and never need to hope to be no better; and that I'd most likely go right straight to that orful place whar all bad folks goes to. O, the dear man! I never could help always liking him arter that—it made me feel so orful narvous and religious like. Why, what on yarth be you grinning at agin, Isaac?—jest for all the world like a monkey for?"
"Nothing, mother," answered Isaac, nearly choking with smothered laughter; "only I war jest kind o' thinking what a kind comforter Mr. Allprayer war, to tell you you couldn't live any longer; and that when you died you'd jest go right straight to—to—"
"Silence! you irrelevant boy, you!" (irreverent was doubtless meant) interrupted the dame, angrily: "How dare you to go making fun o' the pious Rev. Mr. Allprayer?—him as used to preach all Sunday long, and pray all Sunday night, and never did nothing wrong—though he did git turned out o' the meeting house arterward for getting drunk and swearing; but then the poor man cried and said it were nothing but a accident, which hadn't happened more nor ten times to him sence he'd bin a preacher of the everlasting gospel. Thar, thar, the crazy head's a giggling agin! I do wish, Ben, you'd see to Isaac, and make him behave himself—for he's got so tittery like, sence he's axed Peggy, thar's no use o' trying to do nothing with him."
"Isaac! Isaac!" said his father with a reproving glance; and, as though that voice and look possessed a spell, the features of the young man instantly became grave, almost solemn. Then turning to Algernon, the old man continued: "As to leaving us, Mr. Reynolds, you of course know your own business best, and it arn't my desire to interfere; but ef you could put up with our humble fare, say a week or ten days longer, I think as how it would be much better for you, and would give us a deal of pleasure besides."
"Why, I'll jest tell you what tis," put in Isaac: "I've fixed on you for groomsman, and I arn't a going to gin in no how; so unless you want to quarrel; you'll have to stay; and more'n that, it's spected you'll see to takin Ella thar; for I know she don't like to go with any o' the fellers round here; and I shall gin out she's going with you; which may be won't hurt your feelings none—at any rate, I know it won't hers."
At the mention of Ella, Algernon crimsoned to the eyes, and became so exceedingly confused, that he could with difficulty stammer forth, by way of reply, the query as to the time when the important event was expected to take place.
"Let me see," answered Isaac, telling off the days on his fingers: "to-morrow's Friday; then Saturday's one, Sunday's two, Monday's three, and Tuesday's four—only four days from to-morrow morning, Mr. Reynolds."
"Then, as you so urgently insist upon it," rejoined Reynolds, "I will postpone my departure till after the wedding."
Isaac thanked him cordially, and the father and mother looked gratified at the result; Ella he could not see—she having withdrawn from the table, as previously noted. Some further conversation ensued relative to the manner in which weddings were conducted in that country, and the design of proceeding with the one in question; but as we intend the reader to be present at the wedding itself, we shall not detail it. We will remark here, by the way, that the stranger seemed to take a singular interest in all that was said concerning the residence of the intended bride, the road the party were expected to take to reach there, their probable number, manner of travel, and the time when they would be likely to set forth and return. In all this it was observed by Algernon, that whenever he asked a question direct, it was put in such a careless manner as would lead one not otherwise suspicious to suppose him perfectly indifferent as to whether it were answered or not; but he somehow fancied, he scarce knew why, that there was a strong under current to this outward seeming. And furthermore he observed, that the stranger in general avoided putting a question at all—rather seeking his information by conjecturing or supposing what would immediately be contradicted or confirmed. This mode of interrogation, so closely followed up to every particular, yet apparently with such indifference, together with the stranger's treacherous look and several minor things all bearing a suspicious cast, more than half convinced Algernon that the other was a spy, and that some foul play was assuredly meditated; though what, and to whom, or for what purpose, he was at a loss to determine.
From the particulars of the coming wedding, the stranger, after a little, adroitly turned the conversation upon the wound of Reynolds; asked a number of questions, and appeared deeply interested in the whole narration concerning it—the attack upon him by the Indians and his providential escape through the assistance of Boone—all of which was detailed by Isaac in his own peculiar way. From this case in particular, the conversation gradually changed to other cases that had happened in the vicinity; and also to the state of the country, with regard to what it had been and now was—its settlements—its increase of inhabitants—the many Indian invasions and massacres that had occurred within the last five years on the borders—and the present supposed population of the frontiers.