He ran lightly down the steps and jumped into the car, where Mabel snuggled up to him.
“What kept you so long, Joe?” she asked anxiously.
“Just settling an account, honey,” he replied, as he drew her closer. “It was a long one and took some time.”
“An account? What do you mean?” the girl asked, and then added suddenly: “Oh, Joe, you are all—all mussed up!”
“Am I, dear? Well, if I am you ought to see the other fellow, that’s all.”
“It was a—a fight?” she faltered.
“Hardly that, Mabel. Braxton had it coming to him—and I gave it to him with interest. But let us forget it. It’s over now, and all I want to think about is—you!” And he held her closer than ever.
A few weeks later the wedding march was played in Mabel’s home, and she and Joe joined hands for life. Clara was bridesmaid and Jim was best man. Mr. and Mrs. Matson, the latter greatly improved in health, were present. It was a glorious occasion, and all of them, the bride and groom especially, were happy beyond words.
“I’m quite a royal personage,” said Mabel, as the happy pair, amid a shower of rice, started off on their honeymoon. “To think of poor little me marrying the king of pitchers and king of batters.”