"No," grunted Sam, as he turned to go; "but I must be goin'."
"Good luck to you," called Mr. Wiggins, as Sam ran down the steps.
The town clerk and his wife had callers that evening, and Mr. Wiggins, thinking that the joke was too good to keep, told them of Sam's errand, not forgetting to say that during their conversation Miss Sawyer's name had been mentioned.
News germs spread faster and farther than any other kind of bugs. The next afternoon Miss Sawyer heard from reliable sources that she was to be married to Mr. Samuel Billings a week from Thursday at seven o'clock in the evening by the Rev. Thomas Morton, of Uphill Centre, who had married her father and mother forty years before. She also heard that her wedding-gown was to be of gray and white foulard silk, with lace trimmings, and that her other things were just lovely. There was more, but she fainted and missed it. Poor Lizzie, it was cruel, terribly cruel.
When Sam returned to the parsonage Will was at the door waiting for him.
"The old fool thought it was for me," said Sam.
"Your turn may come next," Will replied. "Got a pencil?"
"Yes."
"Then read the questions, and write the answers as I give them." Sam obeyed, though with difficulty, because his lantern flickered, and he was not "much at writin' anyhow."