As for the stalwart Northumbrian, big-bearded Bob, he really was splendid. He was all a man, I can assure you, and bore himself as such in spite of the fact that his black broadcloth coat was rather wrinkly in places, and that his white kid gloves had burst at the sides.
There was a glorious glitter of love and pride in his dark blue eyes as he towered beside Sarah at the altar, and he made the responses in tones that rang through all the church.
After the ceremony and vestry business Bob gave a sigh of relief, and squeezed Sarah’s hand till she blushed.
The carriage was waiting, and a pretty bit of a mob too. And before Bob jumped in he said, “Now, Harry, for the bag.”
As he spoke he gave a look of triumph towards Archie, as much as to say, “See how I have sold you.”
Harry handed him a bag of silver coins.
“Stand by, you boys, for a scramble,” shouted Bob in a voice that almost brought down the church.
“Coo-ee!”
And out flew handful after handful, here, there, and everywhere, till the sack was empty.
When the carriages got clear away at last, there was a ringing cheer went up from the crowd that really did everybody’s heart good to hear.