"He asked me to—marry him."
"Spoke of marriage, eh? Did he happen t' mention th' word—wife?"
"Oh, many times, Ann."
"Good f'r him! An' when's it t' be?"
"Oh, Ann, dear, I—I'm afraid it's—to-night!"
"T'night? My land, he's sure some hasty!"
"And so—so masterful, Ann!"
"Well, y' sure need a master. But t'night—land sakes!"
"He wrote and told me he would fix things so he could marry me to-night, Ann!"
"Then he's sure out fixin' 'em right now. Lord, Hermy, why d' ye tremble, girl—y' sure love him, don't ye?"