He went, and by the time Mr. Lord's toilet was completed, returned with the information, delivered in tones of amusement and with eyes twinkling with fun: "You've lost the job, sir; somebody else has tied the knot; but they've sent word for you to hurry along and you'll be in time for the refreshments. So cheer up, for that's the main thing, after all, ain't it."
"Really I—I'm ashamed to go now," stammered the minister, looking much mortified and embarrassed.
"Tut, tut, man! better treat it as a good joke," returned the farmer gayly.
"I believe you're right," said Mr. Lord, and proceeded to take the advice.
His apologies and excuses were received with good-humored raillery, mingled with laughing assurances that he need not disturb himself; as things had turned out 'twas all very well; it seemed a pleasant accident that had left the performing of the ceremony to an old and valued friend of the bride and her family.
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
"A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded,
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded."
Byron.
The next morning Mr. and Mrs. Ormsby started on their bridal trip—a visit to his relatives, to Aunt Wealthy and the old Ohio home.