"I don't take you, ma'am. This lady and me, we're just fixing to get married. What's the matter?"
"Matter? Matter?" shrieked the intruder. "You do fine to ask, don't you, Lafe Johnson? What about me that you left in Abilene, back in Texas? Hey? How about li'l' Charlie and James, that's the dead image of you? He's been a-cryin' for you, Lafe. Just after he got over the measles—oh, you wretch!"
"Abilene?" repeated the sheriff dully. "Abilene? Charlie and James? Why, I was never in Abilene longer than half an hour in my life, ma'am. You can see for yourself—"
Hetty, who had shrunk back with a startled air at the entrance of the fat woman, now moved suddenly and pulled up the veil, disclosing the round, shining visage of the Anvil cook.
"Why!" said Horne. "If it ain't old Dave!"
Instead of throwing him into the street or into jail, as he deserved, the company permitted Dave to retire with honor to the outer circle, where he divested himself of skirt, waist and plumed hat, and was heard to entreat one of the boys to help loosen the belt with which he had painfully compressed his figure for the event. They could hear him squeal, pretending to be tickled. All agreed that his portrayal of feminine behavior was a marvel of similitude.
Neither Lafe nor the bride took the interruption in ill part. The justice of the peace only appeared chagrined—Turner was in an agony of fear lest he lose his place—but even he managed to join in the laugh. The two faced him again. Three minutes later they were man and wife.