“Yes, this is my happy surprise for Lodema.”
I looked at Lodema Trumble. She looked strange. She had sunk back in her chair. I thought she wuz a-goin' to faint, and she told somebody the next day, “that she did almost lose her conscientiousness.”
“Why,” sez I, “she hain't married.”
“Wall, she ort to be, if she hain't,” sez he. “I say it is high time for her to have some sort of a weddin'. Everybody is a havin' 'em—tin, and silver and wooden, and basswood, and glass, and etc.—and I thought it wuz a perfect shame that Lodema shouldn't have none of no kind—and I thought I'd lay to, and surprise her with one. Every other man seemed to be a-holdin' off, not willin' seemin'ly that she should have one, and I jest thought I would happify her with one.”
“Wall, why didn't you make her a silver one, or a tin?” sez I.
“Or a paper one!” screamed Lodema, who had riz up out of her almost faintin' condition. “That would have been much more appropriate,” sez she.
“Wall, I thought a diamond one would be more profitable to her. For I asked 'em all to bring diamonds, if they brought anything. And then I thought it would be more suitable to her age.”