"Oh, no."
"What a lovely mornin' to get married. Now if 'twas me I'd—"
"Come right in to the sitting-room," called Mrs. Flint, from the kitchen.
"All right," said Mrs. Stout, as she got up to welcome Barbara, who came out to meet her. "I just set down for a minute to ketch my breath. Well, Barbara Wallace, if you ain't lookin' fine for a woman that's been shut up in the house for weeks." Then Mrs. Stout shook her finger at Will and added: "Willie Flint, you're a lucky man."
"I know it, Mrs. Stout," laughed Will, as they went into the sitting-room. Just then Mrs. Flint appeared and shook hands cordially with Mrs. Stout.
"You will excuse me for coming this way, apron and all," she said, "but I was washing dishes, and—"
"Good land! yes, Mis' Flint. My, but you're lookin' better'n you have in years. And if here ain't Mr. Flint himself!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout, as the parson appeared in the doorway, and then hastened toward her with outstretched hand. "Mr. Flint," continued Mrs. Stout, as she shook his hand vigorously, "I was never so glad to see you before in all my life."
"And I can truly say the same of you, Mrs. Stout," laughed the parson.
"Well, forgive and forget, says I," said Mrs. Stout, quickly.