“It has happened out all right,” said Dingley, “and this’ll be the end of it. You got them miners solid now. The strikers’ll eat humble pie after to-day.”
“We’ll be married to-day, just the same,” the mine-boss said, as he gave some brandy to the girl.
But the girl shook her head. She was thinking of a white petticoat in a little house in the mountains.
“I’m not going to be married to-day,” she said, decisively.
“Well, to-morrow,” said the mine-boss.
But the girl shook her head again. “To-day is to-morrow,” she answered. “You can wait, Jake. I’m going back home to be married.”
QU’APPELLE
(Who calls?)