“‘Well, so I did; but what’s one barrel of whisky with five little children and the cow dry?’” Dan laughed vociferously at his story, and his guests laughed also, but more to please him, for they were both a little serious over his drinking. They kept him, however, from ordering a third bottle; but in revenge he visited the bar-room on their way to the carriage, which was waiting at the door. On the way to the minister’s house Susie whispered to Clara, without Dan’s perceiving it, “I should have heeded my presentiment, and stayed at home.”
At the minister’s house they were shown into the parlor, where they were kept waiting some time, Susie growing more and more agitated every moment; but Dan seemed to be quite sober, and behaved very well until the minister came. He was a tall, fat, pompous man, with a face that repelled Clara instinctively. He noticed Susie’s agitation, and asked some questions that Dan took offence at, but he really only remonstrated, Clara thought, in quite proper terms, under the circumstances; but the functionary grew very red in the face, and said: “Your conduct, sir, allow me to say, is exceedingly improper. Allow me to say, sir, I doubt if you are a fit subject for this solemn service.”
“I know my own business, and don’t want any palavering. You do your own business, and I’ll do mine, without your preaching.”
“My business, as you call it, is not at your service to-day,” he said, rising. “I order you to leave the house. I have nothing to do with low ruffians.”
“You shall have something to do with a gentleman though, once in your life,” said Dan, approaching him threateningly. Clara and Susie were already in the hall. Clara called Dan imperatively, and proceeded to the door, supporting Susie, who was ready to faint. They heard the minister say a very insulting thing in reply to Dan’s threat, and the next moment a fall like a sack of wheat was easily interpreted. Dan had applied his “science,” and the fat man was sprawling on the carpet. Before any of the family appeared, the carriage drove off. Dan raved and swore, though he was sober enough so far as the effects of his drinking went. To Clara’s utter astonishment, Susie seemed perfectly recovered from all her anxiety, and even smiled.
“We can get the four o’clock train,” said Clara, looking at her watch. “We will not wait for yours, as we intended.” Dan savagely changed the order to the coachman. At the station Clara would not speak nor look at her brother, with whom she was infinitely disgusted; but Susie shook hands with him, and said, “I was ashamed of you for being so violent, Dan, but I am happier than I have been since I saw you last.”
“I think you are a fool,” he said, sullenly.
“May be I am, dear, but I am not your wife.” She said this without the slightest anger, and smiled on him like a seraph, as she entered the car which was just moving.
Thus ended Dan’s marriage.