Auntie Sue spoke: “Mr. Ward is the uncle and guardian of Betty Jo, Brian.”
“'Brian'!” ejaculated the banker.
Auntie Sue continued: “Homer, dear, Betty Jo has presented HER author, Mr. Burns;—permit me to introduce MY Brian Kent!”
And Judy remarked that evening, when, after supper, they were all on the porch watching the sunset: “Hit sure is dad burned funny how all tangled an' snarled up everythin' kin git 'fore a body kin think most, an', then, if a body'll just keep a-goin' right along, all ter onct hit's all straightened out as purty as anythin'.”
They laughed happily at the mountain girl's words, and the dear old teacher's sweet voice answered: “Yes, Judy; it is all just like the river, don't you see?”
“Meanin' as how the water gits all tangled an' mixed up when hit's a-boilin' an' a-roarin' like mad down there at Elbow Rock, an' then all ter onct gits all smooth an' calm like again,” returned Judy.
“Meaning just that, Judy,” returned Auntie Sue. “No matter how tangled and confused life seems to be, it will all come straight at the last, if, like the river, we only keep going on.”
And when the dreamy Indian-summer days were come and the blue haze of autumn lay softly over the brown and gold of the beautiful Ozark hills, the mountain folk of the Elbow Rock neighborhood gathered one day at the little log house by the river.
It was a simple ceremony that made the man and the woman, who were so dear to Auntie Sue, husband and wife. But the backwoods minister was not wanting in dignity, though his dress was rude and his words plain; and the service lacked nothing of beauty and meaning, though the guests were but humble mountaineers; for love was there, and sincerity, and strength, and rugged kindliness.
And when the simple wedding feast was over, they all went down to the river-bank, at the lower corner of the garden, where, at the eddy landing, a staunch John-boat waited, equipped and ready.