C. G. Now, then; both together. (Aunt M. throws back her veil. C. G. removes his hat. They gaze at each other a moment in utter silence.)
Aunt M. Good gracious airth! ’tis brother Cyrus!
C. G. Jubiter Ammon! ’tis sister Martha!
Aunt M. Oh, my soul and body, Cyrus Gordon! Who’d ever a-thought of you, at your time of life, cutting up such a caper as this? You old, bald-headed, gray-whiskered man! Forty years old! My gracious! You were fifty-nine last July!
C. G. Well, if I am, you’re two year older. So it’s as broad as ’tis long!
Aunt M. Why, I thought shure it was Deacon Goodrich that advertised. C. G. stands for Calvin Goodrich.
C. G. Yes; and it stands for Cyrus Gordon, too. And Deacon Goodrich was married last night to Peggy Jones.
Aunt M. That snub-nosed, red-haired Peggy Jones! He’d ort to be flayed alive! Married again! and his wife not hardly cold! Oh, the desatefulness of men! Thank Providence I haint tied to one of the abominable sect.
C. G. Well, Martha, we’re both in the same boat. If you wont tell of me, I wont of you. But it’s a terrible disappointment to me, for I sarting thought M. G. meant Marion Giles, the pretty milliner.
Aunt M. Humph! What an old goose! She wouldn’t look at you! I heerd her laffing at your swaller-tailed coat, when you come out of meeting last Sunday. But I’m ready to keep silence if you will. Gracious! if Jack and Mary should get wind of this, shouldn’t we have to take it?