As Craddock's musical voice began the opening address, the memory of a foolish incident in her father's life flashed through her mind, and she wondered if Jim in his excitement had forgotten his pocket-book and couldn't pay the preacher.
“Dearly beloved,” he began, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God——”
Mary tried to remember that she was in the sight of God, but she was so foolishly happy she could only remember that funny scene. A long-legged Kentucky mountain bridegroom at the close of the ceremony had turned to her father and drawled:
“Well, parson, I ain't got no money with me—but I want to give ye five dollars. I've got a fine dawg. He's worth ten. I'll send him to ye fur five—if it's all right?”
The children had giggled and her father blushed.
“Oh, that's all right,” he had answered. “Money's no matter. Forget the five. I hope you'll be very happy.”
Two weeks later a crate containing the dog had come by express. On the tag was scrawled:
Dear Parson:—I like Nancy so well, I send ye the hole dawg, anyhow.
She hadn't a doubt that Jim would feel the same way—but she hoped he hadn't forgotten his pocketbook.
The scene had flashed through her mind in a single moment. She had bitten her lips and kept from laughing by a supreme effort. Not a word of the solemn ceremonial, however, had escaped her consciousness.