“I can express my feelings without blasphemy. And I tell you have covered yourself with eternal disgrace and infamy by marrying that drunkard——”
“You would be more endurable if you got drunk occasionally. Barney is not a drunkard.”
“He was seen drunk in Port Lawrence—pickled to the gills,” said Uncle Benjamin.
“If that is true—and I don’t believe it—he had a good reason for it. Now I suggest that you all stop looking tragic and accept the situation. I’m married—you can’t undo that. And I’m perfectly happy.”
“I suppose we ought to be thankful he has really married her,” said Cousin Sarah, by way of trying to look on the bright side.
“If he really has,” said Uncle James, who had just washed his hands of Valancy. “Who married you?”
“Mr. Towers, of Port Lawrence.”
“By a Free Methodist!” groaned Mrs. Frederick—as if to have been married by an imprisoned Methodist would have been a shade less disgraceful. It was the first thing she had said. Mrs. Frederick didn’t know what to say. The whole thing was too horrible—too nightmarish. She was sure she must wake up soon. After all their bright hopes at the funeral!
“It makes me think of those what-d’ye-call-’ems,” said Uncle Benjamin helplessly. “Those yarns—you know—of fairies taking babies out of their cradles.”
“Valancy could hardly be a changeling at twenty-nine,” said Aunt Wellington satirically.