“Well, my friend, hand over.”
“What!” cried Bob, “you want me to bail up?”
“Bail up!”
“You’re a downright bushranger, Archie. However, I suppose I must obey.”
Then he emptied his pockets into a pile on the table—gold, silver, copper, all in the same heap. Archie counted and made a note of all, put part away in a box, locked it, gave Bob back a few coins, mostly silver, and stowed the rest in his purse.
“Now,” said Archie, “be a good old boy, Bob; and if you want any more money, just ask nicely, and perhaps you’ll have it.”
There was a rattling thunder-storm that night, which died away at last far beyond the hills, and next morning broke bright, and cool, and clear.
A more lovely marriage morning surely never yet was seen.
And in due time the carriages rolled up to the church door, horses and men bedecked in favours, and right merry was the peal that rang forth from Saint James’s.
Sarah did not make by any means an uninteresting bride. She had not over-dressed, so that showed she possessed good taste.