"It needs cleaning," sneered the Sheriff.
Turning at the doorway, McKee said; "I ain't much stuck on weddin's, anyway." Looking at Jack, he continued threateningly: "Next time we meet it'll be at a little swaree of my own."
"Get," was Jack's laconic and ominous command.
With assumed carelessness, McKee answered: "I'm a-gettin'. Well, gents, I hopes you all'll enjoy this yere pink tea. Say, Bud, put a piece of weddin'-cake in your pocket for me. I wants to dream on it."
"Who brought him here?" asked Jack, facing his guests.
"I did," answered Bud defiantly.
"You might have known better," was Jack's only comment.
"I'm not a-sayin' who's to come and go. This ain't none of my weddin'."
Polly stopped further comment by laying her hand over his mouth and slipping into the seat beside him.
"Well, let it go at that," said Jack, closing the incident.